


The psycho's soulbond

by StaticRainstorms



Series: The Pirate and his Soul [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Smut, Intersex OC, M/M, Medical Torture, Mental Institutions, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Slow Burn, Transphobia, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaticRainstorms/pseuds/StaticRainstorms
Summary: Ash shifted in his chair. His heart was racing, he was starting to sweat. This was - well - this was insane. He’d just met his soulmate in an asylum after the man had complimented him for biting off someone’s ear. He wished the burning need in his skin to reach out and touch the man would stop.Ash Crews is an embarrassing secret to his family - shipped off to an asylum by his father, tortured by the head doctor, all he has left is his smart mouth and his burning need to survive and all he can expect is yet more of the same.He wasn't expecting to run into his soulmate there.He certainly wasn't expecting his soulmate to be violent, volatile, and obsessed with getting him back to his island.But sometimes life doesn't care what you expect.





	1. First impressions

Ash wished he could say he saw this coming, but honestly, when his dad said they were going to Thailand, what else was he supposed to think but ‘holiday’? His father had remained terse and short-tempered but they’d had a difficult couple of months; Ash hadn’t hoped for a miracle. Even when their car drew up to the hospital steps, it never crossed his mind that his own father would abandon him. He’d mentioned a visit to a psychiatric facility that he was patronising but Ash wasn’t mentally ill, why would he make a connection?

They’d walked up to the front desk together and his dad had barely started talking when a hand closed over Ash’s chin and he felt the sting of a needle in the side of his neck. As his legs gave way, he tried yelling for his father, yelling for help.

His dad walked past him without a word.

The door closed behind him and everything went black.

***

When Ash came to, he was on a cot in a bare white cell. A small window, with reinforced glass and what looked like thick bars on the outside, was set high in one wall, letting the bright tropical light in. Somewhere deeper in the facility, someone was screaming in rage or pain. He tried to sit up only to have his vision swim and his stomach flip. Groaning, Ash laid still and tried to take inventory.

His clothes were gone, replaced by a set of loose-fitting cotton pajamas and a pair of plimsolls without socks. His soulmark wrist-cover was gone, leaving the name _VAAS_ printed in sharp letters terribly exposed. No pockets, not that he had anything left to put in them. He wondered if his mum knew what had happened. Chances were 50/50 that she was in on this too. Whatever this was.

After a few deep breaths, Ash managed to sit up without vomiting. His limbs felt jittery and drained. He spared his left wrist a glance, then glared at the door. He could only think of one thing that this was all about: the fact that he was a bloke. He’d never thought of his family as prejudice enough to lock up their own kid.

Then again - mum had been dropping far more hints about grandkids than usual.

Ash swore. Then he swore at the room. And the people that took his wristband. And the sunshine spilling through the window. Then the pounding his head grew too painful to ignore and he was forced to roll back onto his cot until sleep came.

***

Within a day it became clear why this place had been chosen. The Head Doctor of the ward, or whatever his official title was, was “an old family friend” and one of only three members of staff on the same ward who could speak english. Just Ash’s luck that the other two were the orderlies who’d happily accepted his dad’s bribes and saw no problem with showing patients a “firm hand”.

Really, he thought as he spat blood out on the floor, he was beginning to hate it here.

     “Now then, Ashley. Let’s try again.” The doctor’s voice came from above him. One of the orderlies leant down and dragged him upright by the shoulder. His stomach was still cramped with the pain of the punch but all they seemed to want was for him to sit up. As the knucklehead backed up from where he was slumped against the plaster, Ash glared at Doctor Thompson’s dumb little smile. Even outside of these circumstances, he knew it was the kind of smile that he’d immediately want to punch.

     “My name’s not Ashley.” He croaked. Thompson gave him a insufferable smirk over his cheap clipboard before reading aloud.

     “Ashley Crews, 21, female.”

     “Intersex.” Ash corrected. It was a knee-jerk reaction at this point, but all it got him right now was a smack in the face. Again. He could feel his eye starting to swell.

     “Remember the rules, Ashley. The rules are not to interrupt.” Thompson returned his attention to the clipboard. “Now, how long would you say you’ve been living with the delusion of masculinity?”

     “Never.” Ash managed after a few breaths.

     “Never? So your father was lying when he spoke to us?”

     “I don’t know what he said to you, but I know what I am.”

     “And what is that, my dear?”

Ash bit back the retort at that.

     “I’m an intersex man.”

Thompson sighed, shaking his head and retrieving a pen from his coat.

     “How long have you believed this?”

     “I’ve known it since puberty.”

     “And yet you’ve lived as a woman?” Dr Thompson raised his eyebrows at Ash. Ash glared back.

     “Because I wasn’t in a safe environment to express it. Clearly.”  
Thompson made a few notes before he tucked the clipboard under his arm.

     “Now I know this is difficult for you, Ashley, it’s difficult for all our patients to accept such a change. But your family wants what’s best for you.”

     “They want what’s best for them.” Ash snapped back. “A baby-maker to continue their fucking legacy!”

The orderly’s fist smacked down like a hammer. Ash gasped against the floor, red spilling across one eye from the eyebrow.

     “Rules, Ashley. No swearing, no raised voices.” Fuck you. Ash wanted to hiss. “Now, ECT treatment will begin in a week after a full medical. Until then, I’d like you to get used to your room, get used to the hospital schedules, and the new faces. And I look forward to seeing you for your first treatment.”

With that, he left, flanked by his two knucklehead guards. Ash spat more blood out as the lock clanged shut. What he wouldn’t give for an ice-pack.

And what the hell was ECT?

***

A week of near-solitary confinement later, Ash was strapped to a gurney in his room by a couple of different orderlies who only spoke malaysian. Despite the language barrier, he’d tried to explain what was going on, tried to reason with them, only to realise that they were trying to explain to him what was going on and that he shouldn’t be frightened. At least these ones were nice and gentle when they forced him into the restraints, not that Ash could’ve done much against them as things stood. They both must’ve had a full weight class on him.

Sports had never been his favourite pastime.

They wheeled him down the long hallways and past a security door while inmates (patients?) shrieked at their footsteps behind closed doors. Ash never understood before just how vulnerable it could make you feel, being unable to turn your head. Now, he wished for his ignorance back.

Medical was another bitch of an experience. A full medical examination was humiliating, but that was probably the point. They didn’t speak to Ash once they realised the language barrier existed, barely even looked at him. They just did what they wanted and sent him on his wheeled, merry way with nothing more than a pat on the head from the nurse.

Ash was hyperventilating at the end of it, trying not to scream at them or burst into tears.  
They didn’t know, right? They couldn’t know what was happening or they’d do something. The Hippocratic oath covered this sort of situation, didn’t it?

Back in his room, Dr Thompson was waiting with that bland, punchable smile on his bland, punchable face. Panic gave way to anger and Ash glared as best he could from his gurney. He was ignored as Thompson gave new orders to the men who’d wheeled him around before he turned to lead them down another corridor.

This ride was longer than the last and Ash used the time to calm down, breathing deep and steady. He had to be able to think. If he could calm down and think, he’d be able to work out the best way to deal with whatever was going to be thrown at him.

    First: what did Thompson want?

Other than his parent’s money, obviously.

Thompson wanted results. Any doctor would. Ash could use that. Make him think that the treatment worked, go home and keep the charade going, get a grab-bag together, then book it somewhere safe.

Wherever that was.

Briefly, the name on his wrist crossed his mind. Ash brushed it aside, he didn’t even know what nationality his soulmate was - right now, there were more important things to think about.

He wouldn’t be able to pull that sort of con straight away, obviously. Not only would it be seen straight through, but Thompson would probably want to milk his family for all he could get. So until he’d spent enough time puffing up the good doctor’s bank account and confidence in the treatments’ effectiveness, he’d just have to suck it up.

    Second: How to suck it up?

He could scream and swear and rage, but honestly, that would just be exhausting. And it would probably get him punched again. The bruises from last time where starting to fade, he didn’t want to add to the collection any time soon. No, he needed to stay strong. That meant being stoic was his best bet. Ash frowned at the lights flitting overhead. Stoicism had never been his strong suit before.

The bang of the gurney being wheeled through double doors jerked him from his thoughts. He tried to get a sense of where he was from the glimpses out of the corner of his eye. They’d entered some sort of round room with desks and computers clustered opposite the entrance. Windows reached from the ceiling to the floor, flooding the room with light. The paint looked fresher than in his own cell.

The nice orderlies stopped the gurney in front of where Thompson was shuffling around with something. Ash felt them lock it in place and watched them leave. His heart plummeted when a familiar, knuckleheaded face leaned over him.

     “Welcome to the ECT clinic, Ashley.” Dr Thompson began, as the orderly started strapping things to Ash’s restrained limbs. “I hope you appreciate the state-of-the-art equipment and procedures we have here. The treatment’s come a long way since its conception in the early 1900s.”

     “What’s going on?” Ash bit out, watching the orderly sort out some electric cords until he moved out of sight. Then Dr Thompson’s equally irritating face appeared upside-down, scrutinising him.

The change of perspective didn’t improve anything.

     “I’m afraid we’ll have to do something about that hair.” The man said. “We can work around it for now, but future treatments will be easier with it… slimmed down somewhat.”

Ash blinked at him in bewilderment.

Slimmed down? How the hell did you ‘slim down’ curls?

     “I don’t think I’ll take hairdressing advice from you, doctor.” He replied. “I’m not sure you know how hair works.”

Thompson shot him a grin that made his skin crawl.

     “Not to worry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Ash yelped as his chin was caught and yanked open. A piece of rubber was jammed in and strapped around his head to secure it. If he wasn’t so terrified, he’d be making kink jokes. As it was, he just started shaking as the fear and dread curdled in his stomach.

Thompson leaned back, out of view, for a moment before reappearing with what looked like two plastic cylinders with flat plates on the end, attached to electric cables. The plates were surprisingly large, about 5 cm in diameter at least. Ash stared up at them, stomach churning.

     “Now then, we’ll start with a low current, I think. Just to get the measure of it.” Current? Thompson reached down and set one of the cylinder’s plates to one of Ash’s temples.

Clarity - horrible, horrible clarity - flooded his head as the second cylinder’s plate was set into place on the opposite temple.

ECT: Electro Convulsive Therapy.

Because of-fucking-course it was.

Ash opened his mouth- and the world blanked as pain ripped through him.

He came to gasping, tears welling up and spilling down the sides of his face. As his vision cleared, Thompson peered down at him, grinning like a death mask.

     “How do you feel?”

To hell with the plan, Ash wanted to spit in his face. He wanted to howl at the man, rip the restraints off and tear out his eyes. But all he could do was drag in another shuddering breath before the electrodes were lowered again and another shock kicked through him. Through the ringing in his ears, Ash could hear Thompson speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. His heart was thundering, his entire body trembling, chest pulling the restraints tight with his gasps.

Another shock. Ash came to with a grunt, feeling like his chest had been kicked by a mule. He wanted to go home. He wanted to burn the hospital down. Another. How long was this going to go on for? He couldn’t stop shaking, no matter how he tried. Another. Was Thompson still trying to talk to him? He couldn’t see anymore, his vision was blurred too much, but with pain or tears he couldn’t tell. Another, and Ash’s body decided that if the body couldn’t escape, the mind could.

Everything faded away.

***

Later, when Ash woke up in the dark to crickets chirping through the high window and a body radiating pain, he raised his hands to rub his temples, where it hurt the most.

Two circles of raised, raw skin met his fingers. Then he ran his hands over the rest of his head in slowly mounting fury.

They’d shaved his head down to the skin.

Ash fell into a fitful sleep that night, head pounding from electricity and tears, and dreamed of towering white hallways and hands pinning him down as he screamed.

***

Ash couldn’t be sure how much time passed between his treatments and… whatever else was happening around him. He was pretty sure there were supposed to be regular mealtimes but they seemed to happen sporadically. There was the odd visit by Malaysian orderlies as well, either to take him to medical or to give him some pills. More often, Thompson would stop by with his pair of fists-masquerading-as-orderlies for ‘therapy sessions’. Ash thought the man was just trying to get a rise out of him most of the time, so he tried not to react, although that was easier said than done when everything hurt and he just wanted to be _left alone_.

     “Muscle pain, headaches, and mild short-term amnesia is to be expected.” Thompson’s shoes came to rest in Ash’s field of view. “You shouldn’t refuse your meals, you know.”

Had he? Ash couldn’t remember doing that. It explained the gnawing in his stomach, though. His musings were cut through by the doctor’s put-upon sigh.

     “We’re here to help you, Ash. _Talk_ to me.” There was no force in the world right now that could make Ash open his mouth and waste breath on the man in front of him. Thompson spoke again after a long pause, sounding a great deal more irritated than before. “Would you care for more _treatments_ , Ashley? It could be arranged.” Ash blinked at Thompson’s shoes and said nothing. “I get no pleasure from this, Ashley-” That he highly doubted, “-but if needs must, then I will schedule more _intense_ treatments to break through this malaise.”

What was the point of talking to this man? He knew Ash didn’t need to be here but he was going to keep him imprisoned for as long as he liked anyway. This was a farce and they both knew it.

     “That’s a rather harsh thing to say, Ashley, not to mention completely untrue.” Ash frowned, had he said that out loud - _why couldn’t he remember?_ “You’re here because you’re sick and delusional. You need help.”

     “I need you to fuck off.” Ash knew he’d said that out loud. The orderlies’ beating almost felt like victory.

***

It took a long time for things to change. Ash couldn’t tell how long - the amnesia made counting days unreliable at best and no one wanted to talk to them. Faces changed every now and then - the nice orderlies, the nurses with the soft voices and calm smiles, the knuckleheads with blank faces.

Ash had taken to marking time by what was happening to his body. He was growing thinner and paler every time he thought to check. Already the pajama bottoms that he’d been given to wear were too large, they slipped down his hips whenever he stood and he’d taken to tying a knot in the side to keep them up. The shirt was baggy too and Ash would’ve thought they’d changed his clothes to mess with his head, except he could feel his ribs and his collarbones better than ever. His hands and arms were sharper, his legs thinner. Everytime he moved, he felt weak and wobbly, nausea nipping at his stomach.

No one had phoned for him.

No one had visited.

Ash missed talking to people. People talked at him here. The staff who couldn’t speak english were nice and gentle, especially now he was too weak to kick up a fuss, but Ash always got the impression they were baby-talking to him. He had started to ignore them, letting his mind carry him somewhere else while they babbled at him and arranged his body how they pleased.

Thompson was still picking away at him but judging by the terse tones, he’d not gotten very far. Every few days he’d stand and talk at Ash, calling him that not-name and asking him personal questions, sometimes trying to get a rise out of him by suggesting he was a “sexual deviant”. As if that had anything to do with gender. Sometimes asking whether Ash had been abused in childhood. As if Thompson would report the people who were paying him. Ash gave smart-assed remarks when he was lucid enough and hummed loudly when he wasn’t. One day he spent the whole 20-questions session blowing raspberries, just to watch the vein throb on Thompson’s temple.

Worth the beating, he reckoned.

The ‘treatments’ were worse. They’d upped the voltage several times and now there were raw burn marks seared into Ash’s temples, round and stark against his shaved head. Everything hurt. Everything would keep hurting for a long time. Although he couldn’t judge just how long it had been, Ash wondered whether he should start his compliance plan sooner rather than later. Then during the day, the drugs would make him forget to give the answers Thompson wanted and the shocks would rile him up, make him want to lash out.

He wondered if his parents missed him.

He wondered if his soulmate could feel the pain too.

Nothing changed. Until one day, it did.

You could always hear the new patients being brought in the ward through the doors, no matter how thick they were. They were always screaming or crying or begging. Occasionally they gibbered, but that usually came later when the drugs had taken effect. This new one had Ash sitting upright, staring at the door.

He was _roaring_.

Most of it was in spanish but Ash got the gist. He sounded like a tiger, newly caught and hating every second of it. It was enough to make Ash drag himself up and to the door, peering out through the reinforced glass into the dull stretch of hallway.

     “ _You’re dead, amigo! You and your whole fucking family! I’ll cut you up, you think you can cage me?!_ ”

Thompson strode past his window, followed by the two knuckleheads who were half-dragging, half-carrying a shorter man. There was a smack, a loud curse, and one of the orderlies fumbled the patient. The other threw him into the wall, pinning him until his colleague could get back on his feet. The patient looked up and locked eyes with Ash.

The man looked as wild as he sounded. Scars littered his head, nicking around the base of his mohawk, with the longest and deepest arching over his left temple down to the brow. Green eyes with fire behind them were surrounded by bruised skin. His lips were pulled back over his teeth in a snarl. Ash couldn’t see the rest of him, thanks to the straitjacket, but he looked strong. Dangerous.

The patient met his gaze head on and raised his chin, snarl morphing into a feral grin.

     “How are you doing, hermano?” The orderlies dragged him away before he could continue. Ash grinned after him. Oh, how he hoped that guy would raise hell.

So caught up in the entertainment, he missed the way his wrist burned.


	2. First meetings

The new patient’s arrival seemed to cause chaos. Several times, Ash was woken by an alarm sounding and orderlies racing through the halls, followed by roaring and crashes. His own treatments were forgotten for a while, although they still forced him to take the drugs every day. Still, he found his mind growing clearer, his memories sticking. He was able to think without delirium or pain. It was a pleasant change.

What wasn’t pleasant was the strange tugging sensation in his chest and the slight throbbing of his wrist. Before, he’d been aching all over but now the shock-treatment pains were fading, it was beginning to stand out more and more. Ash figured he must of twisted his wrist somehow. Couldn’t figure out the pulling feeling, though.

They tugged him to one side of his cell, opposite his cot. He couldn’t get comfortable on it anymore, not with this strange sensation demanding that he cross the room. He ended up dragging the mattress over so he could curl up next to the wall, trying to appease the insistent pulling as best he could. It had taken him a whole day to manage the move, grip weak and feeble, himself needing to rest every five minutes.

Ash had counted a full week passing and the strange feeling hadn’t abated. If anything, he’d noticed it ebb and grow at certain times. Usually, it was worse when all the commotion outside started up. Currently, it was softer, more subdued. He’d just decided to take advantage of the lull by catching up on some sleep when his door opened and the knuckleheads stomped in.

One of them had the remains of a black eye.

They didn’t bother with the gurney now that Ash had gotten too weak to fight back, they just grabbed his upper arms and walked, dragging him with them. Ash knew the route by now and his stomach dropped - they were going to the ‘treatment room’.

Thompson wasn’t stood by the equipment this time. Instead, he was pacing back and forth behind the treatment table, all jerky movements and furious mutterings. He didn’t stop as Ash was slammed into the table hard enough to be winded and strapped down. As they secured Ash, the orderlies got in his way and he was forced to redirect, stalking around the table without glancing at it or its occupant.

Finally, the orderlies stepped away to check the equipment and Thompson rounded on Ash.

     "Right. Well. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Ashley?”

     "Ash.” He corrected in a flat tone. Thompson ignored him.

     "I must apologise for my neglect in your treatment plan, this latest patient has been…” He waved a hand, as if trying to encompass all the things that irritated him.

     "No worries, neglect away.” Ash told him. “I’ve actually been feeling a lot better since this little break.” Thompson didn’t seem to hear, resuming his pacing.

     "The issue is that we can’t approach him when he’s lucid. The man’s too dangerous. He can escape our physical restraints - except the straitjacket, thank god - he knows how to fight, he’s crude, antagonistic, irreverent-!” The doctor had to stop, pinching the bridge of his nose and pulling in a long breath to steady himself. “There’s got to be some way to get through his mania.” He muttered, apparently to himself.

He clapped his hands and rounded on Ash.

     "But! This session is about you, Ashley! Let’s get started, shall we?”

     "Let’s not.” Ash tried weakly, arms twisting in their restraints, trying to get out even though he knew how useless it was.

     "Nonsense, this is for your own -”

The doctor froze, mid-step. Ash glanced at him in confusion. Thompson was staring at his arm - no, his wrist - in stunned surprise that was morphing into horrific glee. Ash followed his gaze, still bewildered, until it landed on his left wrist.

His struggles had turned it so the inside faced up. Just visible beneath the straps of the table was the rough handwriting of his soulmark.

_VAAS_

Ash blinked at it. It was red.

Wait.

It was supposed to be black. It was always black, everyone’s was until - Ash sucked in a breath, feeling like he’d just been doused with a bucket of ice water - until you met your soulmate.

Thompson seized his arm, almost leering at the writing.

     "Well now… this is interesting.” He span around to shout at the knuckleheads. “Jones! Smith! Leave that alone and prepare interview room 3! Take her down there and secure her in chair 2, then meet me outside Montenegro’s cell. Quickly now!”

Ash barely felt the straps being pulled away, stuck staring at the scrawl on his wrist. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, his head was swimming. As they pulled him upright, all the excitement and tension found its way out the only way it could.

He threw up on Thompson’s shoes.

***

Ash’s cheek and lip throbbed as he sat in the interview room chair, no doubt bruising up nicely. Thankfully, the orderlies hadn’t bothered doing up the head strap - they’d been in a hurry and decided that a few smacks around the head would be enough to keep him still - so at least his neck wasn’t killing him. Ash had been left for a couple of minutes now but his head had only just stopped spinning from the blows. Opposite, a chair with similar heavy-duty restraints faced him and to his right sat a regular-looking chair, behind it was the only door to the whitewashed room. Every piece of furniture was bolted to the floor. Ash stared at the soulmark on his wrist as it throbbed, feeling the pull in his chest grow more insistent.

Red. His soulmate’s favourite colour was red.

The door banged open, making him jump in his confines.

The knuckleheads entered, dragging a limp body swaddled in a straitjacket between them. They looked pissed. Ash was almost impressed. He hadn’t been able to get that kind of reaction from them, but then again, he wasn’t a mohawked, muscular fighter. Ash watched in detached interest as they strapped the man down, the same man he’d glimpsed in the hallway, who’d called him _hermano_.

The orderlies stepped back after triple-checking the bonds and shared a look before one produced a needle, sticking the mohawked man in the neck and pressing the plunger in all the way. They shuffled to the corners flanking the man, arms folded and glaring at him. Thompson entered, clipboard and pen in hand, and sat primly on the ordinary seat. He glanced at his watch and eyed the straitjacked man.

A few minutes passed in silence, the staff tense and wary, Ash simply bemused.

The tug inside him was growing, pulling him forward against his restraints. He didn’t have the strength to pull back.

The man bound up in front of him was about the same age as Ash, maybe a little older. As they waited, Ash took the time to absorb the details he hadn’t been able to notice in that quick glimpse before. His neck was thick; his hair roughly trimmed, as if he’d done it himself; his cheekbones were sharp and defined. Ash could see a strong jawline, where his stubble was beginning to grow into his goatee.

At last, the man’s eyes flickered open. They moved around with a slightly glazed look, taking in the room before settling on Ash. He watched them in return, taken in by the jewel green colours and the slowly growing brightness as the man grew more aware. He tried to move his head, only to snarl when he realised how tightly bound he was. His gaze sharpened and flickered over Ash, eyeing the fragile limbs and bloodied face.

     "Hey, hermano. You look like shit.”

Ash couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

     "You sound like shit.” He croaked back. The man raised a scarred eyebrow and grinned, feral. Ash’s wrist _burned_.

Thompson cleared his throat, breaking the man’s concentration on Ash.

     "Now then-”

     "What the fuck do you want, blanquito? Can’t you see I’m chatting to my hermano here?” The man snapped, twisting and straining against his bonds without pause.

     "Well, that’s why we’re here, Mr. Montenegro.” Doctor Thompson told him, speaking slowly and clearly, as if to a child. “I thought it would help your therapy to meet Miss Crews here.”

The man’s gaze flickered over to Ash.

     "Miss?”

     " _Mr_.” Ash snapped. “ _Mr_ Ash Crews.” The man froze where he was shifting against the restraints, eyes narrowing to scrutinise Ash. He could almost feel that stare burning into his skin, but he ignored the man to focus his own glare on Thompson. “You should really update your paperwork, _doctor_.”

     "Miss Crews here has her own issues we’re attempting to help her with.” Thompson continued, standing to move closer to Ash’s chair. He smirked at the bound man opposite them. “Which is how we found your connection.”

The man was silent, jaw tightening and glowering at Thompson. The doctor leaned over Ash, undoing the lower cuff, grabbing and twisting his wrist, baring the soulmark to everyone.

The room echoed with silence.

Thompson turned his head, his body blocking Ash’s view of the man opposite.

     "What do you think, Vaas?”

Vaas? What - Ash’s breath caught in his throat. That was - he - he’d just shown -

Rage, like nothing he’d ever felt before, welled up in his chest, roaring in his blood. Thompson - his captor, his _torturer_ \- had taken away Ash’s meeting, taken his right to meet his soulmate the way he wanted to! He - he -

Ash was jerking forward before his thoughts could catch up to the fury flooding his body. His teeth clamped down on Thompson’s ear until he could taste blood. Thompson screamed and tried to pull away. Ash shook his head, biting harder, shaking harder, until Thompson was falling and shrieking. Blood was dripping down his chin. Something was in his mouth. He spat it out to roar at Thompson.

     " _You piece of shit! You little fucker! You_ -” A fist cracked into the side of his face, making the room tumble. Ash shook himself as Thompson’s shrieks and curses were cut of by the slam of a door. When he looked up, he was alone in the room with his soulmate and his nose was bleeding. They stared at each other for a moment. Then the man’s - Vaas’ - expression split into a wide grin.

     "What an introduction! Nice work, hermano!”

Ash blinked at him. Vaas jerked his chin, eyes flickering to something on the ground. He glanced down and felt his stomach lurch. Half an ear, reddened and leaking blood, lay on the floor. The wound was ringed with teeth-marks. Christ, he’d never done something like that before.

For a second, Ash wondered if the doctor was going to be okay. Then he remembered who he was thinking of and everything said doctor was responsible for. He found a little part of himself wishing he could’ve done worse.

     "So,” Vaas’ voice jerked Ash’s attention back to the man. He was all but lounging in the chair, despite the straps and the jacket. “Let’s get to know each other, Ash. Ashy, Ashy, Ash. How are you?”

     "How do I look?” Ash muttered. Vaas chuckled.

     "I already told you, hermano. But you are looking a lot better now, you know.” He shot Ash an easy grin, eyes dancing in mirth. “Red suits you, amigo.”

Ash shuddered and turned his head, spitting out some of the blood. They watched each other for a second before his nerves got the better of him and he cleared his throat.

     "How - how are you?”

Vaas hummed, apparently giving the question serious consideration.

     "Not bad, not bad. Little pissed off at the fucking accommodations, not too happy with the hosts.” He pulled a face. “Would’ve preferred a better fucking meeting. I mean, look at this shit: no flowers, no candles…” He sighed, trying to shake his head against the restraints. “Fucking bullshit service.”

Ash couldn’t help but cough in laughter, spitting out some more excess blood.

     "Yeah, hardly a candlelit dinner.” He glanced at the door. “What do you think he’s trying to accomplish here? Letting us meet, I mean. How is this supposed to help him?”

Vaas studied him for a moment. Then shrugged, a tiny movement under the straitjacket.

     "I don’t give a fuck. At least now I know why my wrist has been fucking hurting.” He strained forward against the chair straps. “Hey, hermano, you been sleeping okay?” Ash blinked at him.

     "Um. Yes? I think. Why?”

     "I can’t fucking sleep, hermano. They have me strapped to a fucking - what do you call it - a fucking gurney in the middle of the goddamn room. I lie there and my fucking chest hurts, you know?”

Ash swallowed.

     "Y-yeah. I know.” Vaas’ eyes could swallow him, they felt so consuming. Despite the pull in his chest, Ash found himself leaning back in his seat, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

     "Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

Ash sent him a confused look. Vaas glared back.

     "Like what?”

     "Like you’re fucking afraid of me or something. Stop it. You don’t look at me like that, hermano.”

Ash floundered, mouth opening without words.

     "It’s not that easy.” He found himself blurting out.

     "What’re you saying?” Vaas’ voice turned sharp, his expression dark. Ash frowned at him, bewildered.

     "Well, we’re soulmarked but aside from that… we’ve only just met? I don’t know you?”

Vaas glowered at him, eyes flashing. Ash felt himself flinch against the chair.

     "So? You’re my fucking _soulmate_ , hermano.”

Ash felt lost.

     "Okay, okay.”

Vaas nodded, the tension loosening from his shoulders and the clench of his jaw.

     "Right. We’re gonna get to know each other, we’re gonna get the fuck out of this shitty place, I’ll take you to my island, and we’ll be happy. You don’t need to be afraid of me, hermano.”

     "Soulmates can hurt each other.” Ash’s big mouth decided to point out. Vaas bared his teeth in a snarl, thankfully looking elsewhere.

     "No, no, no, sickos hurt their soulmates, amigo. I don’t.” His burning gaze returned, pinning Ash in place. “I couldn’t hurt you, hermano. We’re one soul, together. To hurt you, I gotta hurt me too. That’s not happening.”

Ash shifted in his chair. His heart was racing, he was starting to sweat. This was - well - this was insane. He’d just met his soulmate in an _asylum_ after the man had complimented him for _biting off someone’s ear_. He wished the burning need in his skin to reach out and touch the man would stop.

He decided to move the conversation on.

     "You have an island?”

Vaas hummed in agreement, cocky slouch and easy smile back in place.

     "Best island on earth, amigo.”

     "Where?”

     "Little way off Thailand.” His head twitched, like he’d tried to cock it to the side. “What are you doing here anyway? Not that I’m complaining, hermano, but a Thai asylum isn’t the usual place to find an Englishman.”

Ash’s lip twitched upwards at the _man_ part of that.

     "Dumped here.”

Vaas frowned, scar pulling down.

     "By who?”

     "M’dad.” Ash’s chest ached dully at the thought. He pushed it away and focused on Vaas. The man was glowering again.

     "Your fucking father put you in this shit-hole? Why?”

Ah. Well, best to get it out the way now…

     "You - you know how Thompson called me ‘miss’?” Vaas nodded, eyes boring into Ash, who squirmed under the intense focus. “So, I - I was born looking female, but, uh, but my genetics aren’t completely female. So when I hit puberty, my body tried to turn male. And I - I guess my parents didn’t… want… that.”

It was an incredibly watered down version of some intense medical stuff that Ash himself had spent several years researching to understand. The doctors at home had been clear about one thing: there was nothing medically wrong with Ash. There was nothing to cure, nothing to operate on, nothing that was going to harm Ash as he grew up. It was just how his body was.

His mum had cried in the doctor’s office.

His father had threatened lawsuits and demanded referrals.

Ash had stayed silent until he’d moved out.

     "That’s fucking bullshit.” Vaas snapped, bringing Ash out of his thoughts.

     "Huh?”

     "I said: that’s fucking bullshit. They stuck you in here because of that?” Vaas looked livid. “Bullshit, hermano. Fucking look at you, they think this is going to change your DNA or something?” He tried to shake his head. “They’re the ones who should be in here.”

Ash swallowed a lump in his throat to smile at the man.

     "Nice to hear someone say that for once.”

     "How’d they keep you in here?” Vaas pressed.

     "Bribery, friends in the right places, language barriers.” Ash shrugged as much as they could against their own restraints. “Apparently Thompson was just the right family friend with access to electro-shock therapy and knucklehead staff to ship me off to. Not that dad had to do any shipping.” He laughed, the sound bitter in his mouth. “Bastard walked me right through the doors.”

     "I’ll kill him for you, hermano.”

Ash stared at Vaas.

He couldn’t be serious, right? He - he had to be joking. But the set of Vaas’ mouth, the look in his eye told a different story. Ash swallowed, hands gripping the armrests to hide their shaking, trying to come up with a reply.

     "Thanks? But, uh, that’s not necessary.”

Vaas shook his head minutely, something burning behind his eyes.

     "One soul, hermano. They hurt you, they hurt me. No one hurts me and gets away with it, so no one will hurt you.” His eyes flickered to the door and he grew thoughtful. “How long have you been here, amigo?”

Ash shuddered. Then shrugged, deciding to go with the change of subject to distract the man.

     "Dunno. The shocks kinda mess with my head. Long enough to get like this.”

Vaas looked him over again, humming thoughtfully.

     "What sort of security does it have?”

Ash’s brow furrowed.

     "Uhh… guard posts at ward entrances, medical wing entrances, and so on. They have barred gates that they buzz you through. Not a lot of patrols on the ward. A lot of reinforced glass, though.”

     "Weapons?”

     "Haven’t seen any. Mostly they just use their fists.”

An ugly look passed over Vaas’ face as he focused on Ash’s injuries.

     "Those two tough guys from before?” He hissed. Ash nodded, cheek and lip throbbing at the mention of them. “Don’t worry, hermano, they’ll die too.”

Ash shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair.

     "You think I’m joking? Like I said, hermano, you’re my fucking soulmate. Anyone touches you, they answer to me.”

Ash huffed a sigh and cracked open one eye. Vaas was glaring at him again, eyes burning. Something warm and heady, something horribly like hope, tingled in his chest. He pushed it down. Time to relay some basic facts.

     "Dude, you can’t kill people just because they mess with me. And besides, I don’t know what you expect to do but they’ve got good procedures here, I’ll say that much for them. Between the drugs and the restraints, there’s not much hope of you getting loose. Especially if they use chemical restraints to move you around.”

Vaas smiled like a knife.

     "Only for now, hermano.” He narrowed his eyes. “They drug you up? Restrain you when they move you around?”

     "Don’t need to anymore.” Ash huffed. “I’m told I refuse to eat much, so I’m a bit of a push over.”

     "That’s not healthy, hermano.” The reply had Ash snorting with laughter, opening both eyes to take in Vaas’ serious expression properly. “I mean it, man. You gotta eat your proteins, build up some muscle. You look like shit right now.”

He looked very earnest as he said it, raking his eyes over Ash, as if he was thinking of how to feed him back up to a healthy weight. It made a smile pull at Ash’s lips despite how quickly Vaas seemed to flip through emotions.

     "I’ll bear that in mind next time.” Ash chuckled. Vaas attempted nodding again. Just when he thought they were going to settle into silence, the man spoke.

     "Tell me about this doctor fucker.”

     "Thompson? Not much to tell, given what sort of man he is.”

     "Yeah?” The easy grin stretched wider. “What sort of man is he, hermano?”

     "The sort who's utterly generic. The poster child for stock images. A man who couldn't stand out from a coat rack.”

A chuckle had Ash looking up.

     "You know, hermano, I like you. You got a way with words.” Vaas gave him a wink.

 _Oh no_ , Ash thought rather helplessly, _he's handsome_.

Then the door opened and the orderlies stormed in. They plunged another syringe into Vaas’ neck and as they dragged him away, Ash gasped at the burning in his wrist and the tugging in his chest.


	3. Negotiations

The next day, Ash was (firmly) helped from his room by two malaysian orderlies. They gripped him just as tightly as the knuckleheads Thompson preferred, but they at least tried to have him walk around, rather than treating him like a hunk of meat. As soon as he realised that they were heading to the treatment room, Ash stopped and tried to pull away, shaking his head at them as they attempted to coax him forwards. Eventually they shared a look and picked him up by the arms, ignoring his protests. One of them checked his watch. Were they on a schedule? It wasn’t the usual time for one of Thompson’s sessions.

They half-dragged Ash through the door of the treatment room and pushed him onto the same damn table. Ash fought them as best he could as they began the process of strapping him down but when you could be pinned with a single hand, there was only so much that you could do. Eventually, the orderlies left and Ash was able to turn his attention to the rest of the room.

Dr Thompson stood at one of the full-length windows, his back to Ash and the table, hands clasped together at the small of his back. One side of his head was covered in thick bandages.

Satisfaction rose, hot and ugly in Ash’s chest.

He gasped as the pull in his chest flared stronger. It wanted to drag him out of the room, back to the ward, but as he waited he realised it was getting closer somehow. He wouldn’t have been able to explain _how_ he could tell, he just knew that it was.

Before long, the two knuckleheads thundered through the doors, wearing twin grim, irritated expressions. Wheeled along between them was Vaas, still bound in the straitjacket, and strapped to what looked like an upright gurney. It rattled closer, making Ash squint at his bindings. Were those chains?

     "Morning, hermano!” Vaas called, grinning at Ash as he was brought closer. “Sleep well?” Ash blinked at him. Vaas peered down from his standing position and let out a disapproving hum. “Ash… you didn’t have breakfast this morning, no? That’s not good, hermano, you need to eat more.”

Vaas shook his head, tutting like they were chatting over a coffee instead in the _electric torture room_. Ash glanced at one of the orderlies, as if they were going to give any clues about what to say or do as they finished securing Vaas’ gurney in place.

     "Ash, you haven’t asked me how I’ve been.” Ash’s gaze flickered back to Vaas, who smirked down at him. He raised his eyebrows at the dumbfounded look on Ash’s face. “Come on, hermano, you forgotten your manners? It’s fucking rude, no?”

Ash gave himself a little shake and managed a small smile.

     "G-good morning, Vaas. How’d you sleep?”

Vaas’ smile turned… smoother.

     "Oh, I had some very nice dreams, amigo.” He waggled his scarred eyebrows at Ash, who felt his cheeks burn and quickly looked away. Unfortunately, this meant he caught the eye of Thompson, just as he turned away from the window.

The doctor glared at Ash.

Ash swallowed.

     "Now that we’re all here, our _group therapy session_ can finally begin.” Thompson snapped, pacing forward.

     "Let’s carry on where we left off, eh, doc?” Vaas added brightly. “Come over here, hermano, I’ll get the other ear.” He snapped his teeth, pressing forward in the shackles as much as he could. Ash shuddered, trying to push back the nausea at the thought. Thompson glared at Vaas but turned towards the equipment behind Ash’s head in lieu of answering.

Sweat began to prickle around Ash’s brow.

_Oh no, not again._

     "The aim of this session,” Thompson’s voice told the room as he worked, “is to combine Miss Crews’ therapy with your own, Mr Montenegro.” Thompson turned back to face his patients and jammed the rubber bit into Ash’s mouth, closing the straps tighter than necessary. He disappeared for a second, then electrodes loomed into view over Ash. He clenched his fists, trying not to shake. Above him, Vaas jerked against his bonds, snarling at Thompson.

     "You lay one fucking finger on him, I’ll rip out your throat with _my fucking teeth, amigo!_ ”

The doctor chuckled at the outburst.

     "The only way to keep her from getting hurt is to cooperate, Mr Montenegro. Let’s start with the easiest questions, shall we? What was your family like?”

 _Are you kidding?_ Ash wanted to scream at him. This was his plan? Threaten one to get at the other’s dirty laundry? Had he ever heard of the Hippocratic Oath? Or perhaps the Geneva Convention? But Ash couldn’t make a noise, couldn’t even move in case he brought Thompson’s attention and electrodes back on him.

     "You think you’re clever, big guy?” Vaas hissed, struggling against his straitjacket. “Huh? I will kill you. I will tear your guts out and make you fucking watch, you piece of fuck!”

Thompson smirked. His hands lowered.

Ash’s vision blurred as the jolts seared through him. When he came to, gasping and shaking, he could hear Vaas roaring at the doctor.

     "- _piece of shit! Step the fuck away from him! Step! The fuck! Away from him! I’ll rip your heart out and make you choke on it! Do you understand me?!_ -”

Thompson’s voice was drowned out by Vaas’ yells and Ash’s pulse thundering in his ears. Ash managed to suck in another breath before he felt the metal discs press against his temples again.

Each shock was like being shot. They’d increased the voltage over the months to a point where Ash was struggling against blacking out after every pulse. His vision would cloud over and there would be nothing but pain until he was thrown back to his senses, body searing, limbs twitching of their own accord, heart hammering, sweating, gasping. Except now, his wrist felt like it was on fire. The tether in his chest that pulled him to the man in the gurney beside him felt like it was made of steel, trying to drag him across the gap.

The third shock pulsed through him and Ash opened his eyes to muffled voices. He could still hear Vaas screaming at the doctor and his chains thrashing with his movements, but it seemed far away. Ash rolled his eyes to the man next to him. Vaas caught his eye and stared back, looking wild, furious, desperate. The man’s mouth moved. Ash tried to concentrate on the words, to little avail.

The fourth shock crackled through him and he was sucked under into blissful darkness.

***

Ash opened his eyes to a throbbing headache and burning limbs. His chest felt like it had been hit by a car. Groaning, he rolled onto his back and looked around. One of the knuckleheads was in the corner, like a particularly sullen statue. At Ash’s movement, he reached over to the reinforced glass in the door and rapped, then leant back against the wall. A few moments passed in silence before Dr Thompson opened the door and strode in.

     "Well, Ashley. How are you feeling?”

Ash screwed his eyes shut and gathered his strength.

     "Fuck. You.”

     "Hmm. Same as usual, then.” There was the sound of pen on paper, followed by shuffling steps. Thompson’s voice was closer when he spoke again. “I’m hopeful that we might see some progress soon, at least for one of you.”

     "What. Do you mean?”

     "Mr Montenegro was quite cooperative after your treatment.” Ash cracked his eyes open to peer at the doctor, immediately regretting it when he caught sight of the smirk the man wore. “Took a few days, of course, but he eventually calmed down enough to have a reasonable conversation.” Ash couldn’t quite picture that. “We reached an agreement, of sorts. Of course, this depends on your decision.” He levelled a stern look at Ash, where he was sprawled on the floor.

     "Do tell.” Ash croaked. Thompson drew himself up, almost preening.

     "I have negotiated several sessions with Mr Montenegro to ask all the necessary questions I need to. In exchange, Mr Montenegro will be permitted one-on-one meetings of 30 minutes with you.”

Ash choked on some spit.

     "W-what?”

Thompson waved away his splutterings.

     "Don’t worry, he’ll be restrained and you will be supervised. We’ll be outside the room, but everything will be recorded. It’ll be an excellent insight into how soulbonds affect or integrate with psychosis!” He smoothed a hand down the front of his suit. “There may well be a paper in this...”

Ash stared at him, at the bored-looking orderly, back at Thompson.

     "This has to be one of the most unethical things you’ve done so far.” He managed. “And that’s including the fucking torture.”

     "ECT is a safe procedure used across the first world.” Thompson snapped.

     "Not when the patient’s _awake_.” Ash snarled back.  
The orderly’s foot slammed into his side, ripping a grunt from his throat. Curling in on the pain only made the other aches flare up. His wrist burned. The tether in his chest pulsed.

     " _Rules_ , Ashley. No backchat, remember?” Thompson tutted. Ash tried to wheeze out a _fuck you_ , but it was too garbled to be understood. “Now come along. Mr Montenegro demanded a visitation as soon as you were lucid.”

The knucklehead’s hand closed around the back of Ash’s neck in a steel grip, hard enough to strain his breathing. Panicked, Ash scrabbled at the man’s arm as he was lifted and dragged along the floors. They turned away from the path to the ward’s entrance and further into the bowels of the wing.

Every step had the tether in Ash’s chest grow stronger. He swallowed against the hand around his throat, dread curdling in his stomach. What the hell was Vaas thinking? What was he going to do? He remembered the sex ed lessons at school describing the stages of soulbonding, how eye-contact formed the initial bond but touching was necessary to seal it. Once sealed, there would be no way out - Ash would be able to sense where Vaas was, and vice-versa. If shit went down, how would he be able to get away?

They’d arrived at the interview room during his internal freakout. Thompson nodded at the orderly and ducked into the room next to it. The knucklehead turned a handle under the window, making the privacy-screen on the glass roll open, and peered inside. Ash tried pummeling his leg to make him let go.

Apparently satisfied with the situation in the room (and as affected by Ash’s fists as he would be by a flurry of dead leaves), the orderly unlocked the door and threw his skinny cargo inside. Ash grunted as he landed, turning to glare at the door as the bolt slammed home. Then he remembered his situation and scrambled to his feet, staring around.

It was another dismal room, high barred windows and whitewashed walls, flat concrete floors and no furniture. A camera stared down at the occupants from a corner near the ceiling. Under the windows, leaning against the wall, was Vaas.

Ash couldn’t remember being so grateful for sight of a straitjacket before.

Vaas pushed himself off the plaster and stalked forward, eyes burning with something Ash didn’t want to decipher. He pressed himself back against the door, hands searching for some sort of handle despite knowing it was absent.

Vaas came to a stop a few paces from Ash, gaze flickering over his face, cataloging injuries, expressions, signs of fatigue.

Ash was shaking. His soulmark was pulsing, as was the tether in his chest. It was urging him to step forward, to touch, to seal the bond. He didn’t want to. It wasn’t safe.

 _This monster loves you_ , some deep part of him whispered.

No. Not safe.

     "You don’t look too good, amado.” Vaas rumbled, tilting his head. “How’ve you been?”

Ash licked his dry, chapped lips, spared the camera a glance.

     "Better.”

Vaas nodded, expression dark and serious.

     "Those burns look bad.”

Ash nodded, uncertain. Vaas didn’t seem to want to do anything but stare at him, so he swallowed, trying to gather his courage.

     "How - how long has it been?”

     "Three days, amado.” Vaas frowned at him. “You don’t know that? I could feel you wake up after that shit-stain knocked you out.”

     "I woke up just before they brought me here.” Ash croaked. At Vaas’ expression, he just shrugged. “Shocks cause short-term amnesia. May’ve been awake, but I sure as hell don’t recall.”

Vaas’ lip curled in a snarl and he turned his face away, glaring at the wall that hid Thompson from them. Ash wondered if he knew that was where the man was hiding, or if was just coincidence. Still, without those piercing eyes on him, he felt a little calmer.

     "Why make the deal?”

The question seemed to confuse Vaas.

     "I needed to see you, Ash. Without the fucking audience, you know?”

     "But-” Ash shuffled, unnerved by the absolute attention in the man’s stare. “You - you really want to tell that guy all your dirty laundry?”

Vaas laughed, head tilting back in his mirth. Ash’s traitorous eyes followed the line of his throat. His stomach fluttered. The tether in his chest _ached_.

     "You worried about me, Ashy? That’s sweet, amado. What makes that fucker think anything I say will be the truth, huh?” He grinned down at Ash, green eyes glittering. Ash swallowed, cheeks heating. “I could spin the saddest fucking sob story in the world, how’s he going to know?”

     "Maybe he’s hoping you’ll tell me.” Ash muttered, trying to rein in his damn instincts. Vaas merely hummed and took a step closer. Ash’s heart was racing.

     "You’re so small, amado. Small in every way.” The man mused, straitjacket brushing the front of Ash’s shirt. “Two halves, hermano, do you think that makes us two opposites?” Ash closed his eyes against the driving need to reach out, to _touch_. He pressed his hands against the door. Vaas’s voice dipped closer, as if he was leaning down to Ash’s ear. “I don’t think so. You didn’t scream once, did you know that?”

Ash’s breath came in gasps now, he had to turn his face away from that voice. Why didn’t Vaas touch him and get it over with? It wasn’t as if he could fight him off.

     "Will of fucking steel, hermano.” Vaas purred in his ear, pressing closer, still not allowing their skin to touch. “We share that, no? All the shit they’ve done to you here and you’re still fighting. Fighting them, fighting yourself…” A thick leg, all hard muscle, pressed between his own and Ash gasped, hands darting forward to grip at Vaas’ straitjacket. He didn’t pull forward, didn’t push away. Vaas’ groan rumbled in their chests. “You don’t have to fight me, amado.”

A shiver wracked Ash’s body. He wanted, he _wanted_ -

Gathering up all his strength and clear thinking, he pushed as hard as he could. For a horrible moment, he wondered if Vaas would actually back off, dreaded that he would. Then the strong body against him moved away, leaving Ash dragging in cold, clear breaths. He pried his eyes open and glared at Vaas.

Vaas was grinning.

He looked elated. _Proud._

Ash pressed his legs together, trembling.

Then the door he was propped against opened and he fell back with a yelp. Their time was up.

***

Ash spent more time in his cell after Thompson managed to get his deal with Vaas. He forced himself to eat when the meals came (turned out there were three a day, who’d have thought?). Now that he was now longer getting his brain fried on the regular, he slept better. Every now and then the soulmark on his wrist would flare and the tether in his chest would grow more insistent. Usually Ash would be able to hear ruckus in the halls when that occurred; it was good to know that Vaas wasn’t holding back on the knuckle-twins or the good doctor.

A couple of days of eating and rest didn’t exactly put meat on his bones, but Ash felt less weak and nauseous when he was next dragged from his cell. He was able to keep a sharp eye on everything around them as knucklehead no.2 dragged him along the halls back to the interview room. When Ash was flung in he managed to stay on his feet this time. He caught sight of Vaas immediately, pacing the wall next to the door beneath the camera.

In the time it took for Ash to steady himself, Vaas crossed the room and herded the shorter man into the nearest corner. He leaned into Ash, his weight and sturdiness pinning the younger man against the plaster. Ash let out a squeak of surprise as Vaas dipped his head down close to Ash’s own. His eyes closed while Ash craned his head away, clutching the walls. Their bond pulsed between them.

Vaas let out a heavy sigh.

     "Good to see you, amado.” He muttered. “Fucking bullshit place getting on my last fucking nerve...”

Ash glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He looked - he looked tired. This close, Ash could see bags forming under his eyes, could feel a faint tremor running through his frame. His skin looked paler and there was a faint sheen on his brow.

     "Are you sick?” The question was out before he could stop himself. Vaas shot him a tired look and gave a low chuckle.

     "If I say yes, you gonna be my nurse, amado?” Ash rolled his eyes at the eyebrow waggle and pushed at his chest, trying to shift him off.

     "You look like you’re about to puke on me, dude. I want to know if I have to dodge anything.”

Vaas gave another chuckle, ignoring Ash’s attempts to move him.

     "Nah, that’s not gonna happen, hermano.” He closed his eyes again, head dipping back down. “Cold turkey just feels like shit, you know?”

Ash gave up shoving at him as he leaned in, focusing more on keeping their skin from touching despite the instinct to get closer. Unnoticed, his hands remained where they were, pressed against Vaas’ bound upper arms.

     "What are you withdrawing from?”

Vaas managed a half-shrug in his confines.

     "Crack, meth, fuckin… weed. All kinds of shit.”

Ash frowned.

     "Does - does Thompson know about this? You know he’s listening, right?”

Vaas mumbled something that sounded like _fuck him_ and took a long, deep breath.

     "You smell nice, amado.” His head tilted to one side, causing Ash to flinch away. “Fuck, I wanna hold you properly. Wanna touch you.”

Ash fought against the blush crawling over his cheeks.

     "Should’ve thought about that before you got the fashion accessory.” He mumbled. Vaas snorted.

     "You’re a real smartass, hermano. Wonder how good that mouth is at other things…”

Ash tried pushing him off more frantically as Vaas moved a leg between his own.

     "S-stop it, Vaas.” He squeaked. Vaas paused, then leaned back to study his soulmate, eyes sharp and narrowed. Gradually a sly smile pulled at his lips.

     "You a virgin, amado?” He purred, pressing close. Ash glared at him, silently cursing his traitorous red face. “Oh, cariño, you been waiting just for me?”

     "Shut the hell up.” Ash bit out, shoving with all his might. If the ground could swallow him right about now, that would be great. But then Vaas allowed himself to be pushed away, still watching Ash with amusement.

     "You’re making this really fucking difficult, amado.” He groaned. Ash stared at him in disbelief. “I see you and I wanna touch you more and more.”

 _Then why don’t you?_ Ash’s thoughts whispered. He bit his tongue, soulmark aching.

     "H-how’s the treatment going?” He managed. Vaas sneered, as if on reflex.

     "I’m looking forward to gutting that fucking doctor.” He snarled and began to pace. Ash watched, reminded of a tiger he’d seen in a zoo once. “Little piece of shit called me insane - insane! You know what the definition of insanity is, amado?”

A memory tugged at Ash’s mind, some sort of quote. How did it go?

     "Doing - doing the same thing over and over?” He managed. Vaas nodded, eyes burning into Ash’s own.

     "Exactly, doing that and expecting things to change. I’ve seen it, hermano. Everywhere I look, everyone does it. Thinking ‘no, no, this time it’ll be different, it has to be’. Like hell.” He shook his head. “They’re crazy, amado. Fucking insane. And this doctor? He’s just the same. Same questions, same threats, over and over again. Like he did with you, no?”

He’d drifted closer to Ash with each pass during his rant, apparently unaware of doing so. That need to touch, to seal, rose hot and consuming in Ash’s throat as he watched Vaas stalk back and forth like a caged animal. He shivered, curling his hands into fists, trying to stay in control.

     "I’m not fucking crazy, hermano.” Vaas muttered, sparing Ash a glance. “And neither are you. We know, don’t we? We _know_ what insanity is and we don’t give in.”

     "That makes us special?” Ash asked, throat dry, mesmerised by the man before him. Vaas moved close to him again, piercing gaze locked with his.

     "Many things make us special, amado.” He murmured, a hair’s breadth from Ash’s lips. Ash’s heart felt like it was about to leap from his chest. He couldn’t stop shivering. “One soul, amado, one soul.”

As if from far away, Ash heard the door open and footsteps on the floor. A thick arm came around Vaas’ neck and yanked him back, pinning him against an orderly. Vaas’ expression split into a snarl, teeth snapping at the man behind him. Ash felt himself move forward, reaching for Vaas’ face, for his skin-

The other orderly batted his hands away and they dragged Vaas, kicking and spitting, from the room.

***

That night, Ash lay on his mattress on the floor and stared at his soulmark. He knew Vaas was asleep, or at least unconscious, by the way the pull of their bond had lessened. Now that the force trying to drag him about was at its weakest and his mind was clear, he had some serious thinking to do. He tried to line up what he knew for sure first, then consider everything around it.

    Fact: Vaas was… violent and volatile.

That was putting it nicely, but it was the truth. The scars that littered his head told a story of a harsh, dangerous life that must’ve in some way helped to build who he was today. From what Ash could tell, what he had felt, under that straitjacket was a body built for fighting and surviving. Vaas could not have had an easy life.

This was only compounded by the way he so easily moved to violence. Ash couldn’t shake the memory of Vaas promising to kill his father without hesitation, remorse, or pretence. Just for abandoning him here. Alright, the hospital was one of the worst experiences in Ash’s admittedly cushy life but if he hadn’t come here - if he hadn’t been left - they may never have met. That didn’t seem to concern Vaas. Ash knew there were people who were convinced soulmates were fated, that they would find their partner no matter what, but still… to so easily decide to kill your partner’s family? It made him uneasy.

Perhaps the cocktail of drugs Vaas had admitted to taking had made him more unstable than usual. Ash couldn’t tell. He had no experience of what those did to a person. Still… would he want to spend his life tied to an addict? What if they made Vaas lash out at him?

It was too uncertain for any concrete thought, so Ash moved on.

    Fact: Vaas was focused on him now.

Obsessed may also apply, Ash wasn’t too sure. His ego wasn’t that sturdy to begin with and even now, with all he knew of his soulmate, it was protesting the idea of anyone being that interested in him. Still. Vaas wanted to be as close as possible - he’d even made a deal with someone he hated to get private time together. He’d decided to take Ash to his island almost as soon as they’d met. He called them “one soul”. He seemed determined to keep Ash...

But he didn’t touch him.

Did he want Ash to seal the bond? Why? Ash chewed his lip as he mulled it over, running a thumb over the name etched onto his skin. Slowly, an idea crept to the front of his mind.

Maybe… maybe he wanted Ash to _choose_ him.

Maybe Vaas knew that if he sealed the bond, Ash would fight him. And Ash would. He would run to the ends of the earth to escape a bond like that and he didn’t doubt for one second that in the same situation, Vaas would do worse.

Plus… Vaas didn’t seem interested in ownership. He’d stressed several times that he thought they were two halves of the same soul - that implied a level of equality, a sense of balance…

Unless Ash was reading too much into what he’d left unsaid. Doubt began nipping at his thoughts until he pushed them away, trying to focus again.

    Fact: Vaas, for whatever reason, _accepted_ him.

He called Ash by his name, he used Ash’s correct pronouns - hell, he’d immediately called bullshit on Ash being brought to the hospital in the first place. No one - not his so-called friends at home, not his family, not even some of the medical professionals in England - had done that with half of the ease and passion that Vaas had.

It made something warm and bright bubble up inside Ash, made him smile in the half- darkness of his cell, staring at the name on his wrist.

Vaas had defended him again and again, without hesitation. Maybe he only did it because they were soulmates, but that didn’t lessen how much his actions meant to Ash. He was willing to protect him. His demands that Ash’s ECT ceased in return for his cooperation lent weight to the idea.

Which meant something else too…

    Fact: Vaas fascinated Thompson.

That was, Vaas and his connection to Ash fascinated Thompson. While the doctor could poke away at the two of them and study soulbonds and psychoses, they weren’t getting out. Ash’s compliance plan was functionally useless and Vaas had everyone waiting for an escape attempt, just by being, well, Vaas.

If they weren’t leaving for the foreseeable future, what did a sealed bond matter? The tugging sensation would stop, they would just know where the other was - what direction, how far, whether they were stressed. That would make them more comfortable, right? And - and he wouldn’t have to flinch away when he saw Vaas… he was getting tired of being pushed and pulled around like a slab of meat. He missed casual touches so much.

But it wasn’t all about Vaas, was it?

_Two halves, hermano, do you think that makes us two opposites? I don’t think so._

Ash sucked in a deep breath, held it for ten seconds, and released it.

    Fact: Ash had bitten the ear off of a man, simply for showing his wrist to strangers.

Sure, the circumstances were complicated. Sure, Ash felt that no jury would find him guilty for such a thing. Nevertheless, it was an act of violence, impulsive and unrestrained violence that had caused permanent injury. He was capable of that. He didn’t even feel guilty about it.

    Fact: Ash had nowhere to go.

If he went home, he’d be sent right back here. He knew his parents and their connections - how soon they’d found out he was living as a man showed how wide their web could stretch. His own ‘friends’ had outed him as soon as he’d confided in them.

Ash knew several european languages but he had no money, no passport, no experience travelling alone in foreign countries. He didn’t know what would be needed to claim asylum somewhere or if a claim would be taken seriously. After all, why would an englishman need asylum to escape England?

    Fact: Ash was drawn to Vaas.

Yes, the man’s mood swings bewildered and scared him. Yes, he was shaken by how violence came to Vaas as easily as breathing. Yes, the guy had issues. Lots of issues. Mainly involving said violence.

Yet Vaas had never turned on Ash, not even when left alone with him, when he could’ve easily overpowered Ash and forced a bond. He seemed genuine in his concern when he asked after Ash’s health. Vaas was interested him as well and - Ash felt his cheeks heat up - and he thought Vaas was handsome too.

Two halves… one soul… Ash wondered how much protection that offered him.

Sighing, he rolled over, turning his back to the wall the mattress was jammed against. Maybe he was just lonely and desperate.

The final fact was that he just didn’t know enough about Vaas in this environment. He could hardly expect the man to act naturally in a mental hospital where he was the prize guinea pig. It looked like this was going to come down to a gut decision.

Ash just hoped his instincts chose well.


	4. Defiance

Two days had barely passed by before Ash was hauled from his cell again. Not too long beforehand, the soulmark on his wrist burned and the tether in his chest grew taut. When he’d crept to the door and strained his ears, he thought he could hear Vaas laughing, along with several crashes and loud swearing. He’d curled up on his mattress again, uneasy, wondering.

This time Thompson was waiting outside the meeting room for him. The man looked slightly dishevelled, as if he’d been in a scuffle. His hair, usually combed flat, was sticking up in odd places, like he’d tried to rip it out in frustration. Ash grinned at him.

     "Had a good ‘session’, I see.”

Thompson glowered.

     "I am a patient man, Ashley.”

     "It’s Ash.”

The orderly’s fist slammed into his stomach and Ash crumpled to the floor, groaning. The bond to Vaas snapped taut in response to his distress. Almost at once, there was a slam against the meeting room door and muffled shouting. Above Ash’s head, Thompson’s voice continued, interruption ignored.

     "But I have my limits. Mr Montenegro is testing them and I’m growing tired of playing along with his whimsies.” Ash glanced up at him as he tried getting his breath back. There was a vein throbbing in Thompson’s temple. What the hell happened earlier?

Thompson gestured to the knucklehead next to Ash, who reached down and dragged him up to something resembling a standing position.

     "You will ask him several questions during this meeting.” Thompson ordered, pulling himself up to his full, unimpressive height. “For every truthfully answered question we receive, your own therapy here shall be reduced by one week.” Ash froze, staring at him. “If he doesn’t answer, your therapy will be reduced by two days. If you refuse to ask anything, your regular treatments will re-commence.” Thompson stepped closer, glaring at him. “Am I clear?”

Ash chewed his lip, thoughts racing.

Was Thompson serious? Ash doubted his ‘therapy’ had any sort of set end date - unless his family was demanding his return, and Ash couldn’t think of a single social event that needed him to be there. Besides, it would be easy to cover for his absence by saying he’d gone on a gap year or something.

No. No, the doctor had to be lying.

It wouldn’t exactly be beyond him to do so.

Thompson seemed impatient for an answer; rather ironic, when Ash considered how the conversation started out. Clearing his throat, Ash made his decision.  
     "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you lying little shit of a man.”

His eloquence was rewarded with a put-upon sigh from Thompson and a meaty fist to his face. As the world span, Ash was aware of footsteps turning away and a door opening. Then he wasn’t on the ground anymore, until he was, grunting at the impact of landing on the floor.

     "Hey! Hey, come here, tough guy! Come try that with me! Hey!”

     "Vaas, keep it down, will you?” Ash groaned, hauling himself to his knees and cradling his head.

There was a dull thump of someone (Vaas, most likely) kicking the door, then his soulmate was crouching next to him.

     "What the fuck happened, amado?”

     "Thompson seemed a little upset with you.” Ash sighed, sparing him a tired glance. The man appeared no worse for wear, just furious. “You look better.”

Vaas shrugged under the straitjacket.

     "Got stuck with something earlier, I’m told it was to ‘flush my system clean’.” He snorted. “Felt like shit for a while, then that doctor fuck got too close.” His grin was feral, all sharp teeth and wild eyes. “Managed to rough him up a bit.”

     "That explains the welcome committee.” Ash probed the side of his face gingerly. His cheek was starting to swell, but nothing seemed too badly damaged. He let his hand drop and focused on Vaas. “He wanted you to answer some questions. Seemed to think you’d be straight with me.”

Vaas chuckled.

     "Cariño, ‘straight’ is not how I’d describe us.” An eyebrow-waggle made Ash groan, rubbing his eyes.

     "Anyone ever told you you’re fucking hilarious?”

     "Not for a while but it feels good, hearing that from you.”  
Ash snorted, pushing himself to his feet. Vaas rose too and began to crowd him, expecting the smaller man to lean away as he usually did. Ash didn’t move. They watched each other, Vaas’ bound arms pressed into Ash’s shoulder.

Would the man force him into a corner? How much protection did this soulmate thing give him? Ash needed to know, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting any answers if he didn’t start pushing his luck. To his surprise, Vaas didn’t shove him around. He just grinned, like he knew what Ash was doing, approved of it even, and took a step back. Ash eyed him warily as he moved around to Ash’s back and leant in. Vaas rested his chin on the younger man’s shoulder, watching him with an amused smirk.

Well then. This was weird.

Ash huffed, shaking his head. They were inmates of a psychiatric facility on a bizzaro version of a date. When had this not been weird?

Vaas didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. He just leaned into Ash, taking in whatever details of his profile he could. Their bond hummed, almost contented, between them.

     "Why are you leaving this up to me?” The question took Ash by surprise as much as Vaas. He tried not to fidget too much as Vaas raised his eyebrows in reply. “I mean - you strike me as the sort of man who usually just takes what he wants.”  
Vaas made a noise of agreement.

     "Very true, amado. I see something I want, I take it. But I don’t need to take something that’s already part of me.”

Ash’s heart sped up as he felt Vaas shift, raising his head to press a kiss on Ash’s clothed shoulder.

     "I don’t know enough about you.” He mumbled, not daring to look at the man. “I can’t decide in here.”

He felt Vaas shrug against him.

     "Do or don’t, it doesn’t matter. One soul, amado.”

Ash stared at the floor, unsure of the emotions battling inside him.

     "Thompson said my treatments would start again.” He felt Vaas tense up. “I refused to play along with his latest scheme, so he’s out of ideas. Or maybe he’s just feeling vindictive today.”

     "He hurts you, I’ll kill him.” Vaas growled. “And I’ll take my sweet fucking time.”

Ash was tired, too tired to be worried or scared at the statement. He closed his eyes, feeling the rumble of his soulmate’s voice against his back, and thought, just for a moment, how nice it was to have someone care so much about him. Then he pushed that away.

Inappropriate.

He needed a distraction.

     "How did you wind up here, Vaas?”

Vaas shifted, apparently considering the question. He hooked his chin over Ash’s shoulder and pulled until he was leaning against Vaas’ broad chest. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, given the straitjacket situation, but Ash went with it, appreciating the gesture.

     "Got stabbed, left to die. Some of my men found me, took me to a doctor on the mainland.” He huffed at the memory. “He was a whiney little shit, like this one. The boys had to rough him up before he got to work. Little fucker must’ve called someone as well. Soon as he was done, the fucking cops showed up.”

     "Did your men get away?” Ash asked, craning his head to get a look at Vaas. He was staring into the distance, the most thoughtful Ash had ever seen him. Thoughtful, but the deep scar arching along his head and his wide, burning eyes didn’t make him appear any less manic.

     "Maybe, I don’t fucking know. Cops threw me in jail and a couple of cocksuckers decided to show off how tough they were.” A sneer pulled at his lip. “After I went through the third one, they took me out, sent me here.”

     "Huh.” A prison fight? That was what got him sent to an asylum? “How - how badly did you…?”

Vaas grinned down at him.

     "You really want to know, amado? How easily do you get nightmares?” His voice dropped to a purr. “I’d rather you only had nice dreams about me.”  
The door slammed open before Ash could think of a reply and Vaas was spinning around, knocking him towards the wall and snarling at the knuckleheads as they entered. He launched himself at one, only to be caught by the other and wrestled out of the room. The door slammed behind them and unease crawled up Ash’s thoat.

As the distance grew, the tether ached.

***

Doctor Thompson, despite his claims to the contrary, was not a patient man.

Ash barely had to wait until the end of the day before tweedle dum was shoving open his cell door and dragging him into the hall. The setting sun bathed the walls the same bloody red as his soulmark. He wasn’t surprised when they turned towards the medical wing, then down the hall to the treatment room. He tried to struggle, to wiggle out of the knucklehead’s grip, to punch, kick, and even bite. All it got him was a brief pause in the hall while the orderly punched him in the side and head.

There were times he felt woefully inadequate compared to Vaas.

A shout drew his attention back the way they came. Through a trickle of blood dripping down his forehead, Ash could see Vaas, trussed up on his standing gurney and thrashing against his restraints. He looked livid, focused on the orderly dragging Ash along.

Thompson was very impatient, indeed.

They entered the shock room, where the doctor was already at the equipment, connecting wires and dialing the voltage with sharp, jerky movements. Desperation welled up in Ash’s chest and he bit the orderly’s arm again, hoping for something, anything-

The knucklehead grunted a curse and swung at Ash, knocking him to the ground. He could hear the gurney come in midway through the beating but Vaas stayed eerily silent this time. When Ash was slammed into the table, he saw why.

Vaas had managed, somehow, to undo all his leg, head, and upper torso restraints. As Ash watched, wide-eyed in horrified hope, he was starting on the last strap around his waist. The man’s expression was dark and ugly, focused on the orderly pinning Ash to the table.

The other orderly, no longer distracted by locking the gurney in place, let out a yell when he realised what was happening. He lunged at Vaas, only to be kicked back so hard he smacked into the table and dropped, winded. Ash’s orderly abandoned his own work, leaving Ash with only one half-tightened wrist restraint, and launched himself around the table to get to Vaas.

     "What are you doing?” Thompson shrieked behind them. “Stop him, stop him! Get that animal under control!”

Ash pulled his hand free and rolled off the table, watching the chaos unfold. Vaas tried lashing out at the last standing orderly but the man dodged, slamming him back into the gurney. Ash watched, desperation climbing, as the other orderly began to clamber back to his feet.

No, no, no - there had to be something - he had to do something - his eyes landed on the electrodes, humming on their stands.

Thompson was still yelling at the orderlies, at Vaas, completely focused on the scuffle at the side of the table. No one was looking in his direction.

Before he could think, the electrodes were in his hands. As the second orderly stood, Ash jumped forward and slammed them to his temples. The man dropped with a crash. Thompson gaped at him, frozen mid-shout. Ash stared at the body, spared a hope that the man wasn’t dead, and looked up at the second orderly.

The knucklehead had turned at the crash, only to be bowled over by Vaas when he finally got his last restraint free. They slammed to the floor with a roar, the orderly pinned to the ground as Vaas straddled him. Ash watched him smack his head into the orderly, once, twice, three times.

Just as his victim went limp, a hand grabbed Ash by the chin and dragged him backwards with a yelp. Vaas span around at the sound, snarling.

     "That’s enough.” Thompson snapped, holding a syringe close to Ash’s throat. “This is full of air. In the bloodstream, it will cause a heart attack. Fast, fatal, and incurable.”

Vaas froze, eyes narrowed. The only sound in the room was Ash’s terrified panting.

     "Y-you’ll lose your bank roll, doctor.” He managed, eyes locked on his soulmate, crouched and tense on the floor. “How much are they paying you for me?”

     "Not enough to deal with this - this mess!” Thompson snarled, his grip tightened and Ash winced as his nails dug into his face. “Now, you will return to your room at once, Montenegro!”

Vaas’ lip curled. The syringe moved closer. Ash’s grip flexed.

He was still holding the electrodes.

Moving as fast as he could, Ash raised them and stabbed the metal plates into the hand gripping his chin. Thompson shrieked and dropped him, flailing his hand against the burning electricity. As Ash rolled out of the way, Vaas made his move. The doctor barely had time to look at the man before he was struck to the ground by a headbutt. Ash flung the electrodes away as the sound of screaming filled the room, punctuated by wet smacks.

Thompson managed to hold out for four cruel strikes before finally falling still. Vaas only stopped to lean down and rip off his other ear, spitting it across the floor before climbing to his feet. He and Ash stared at each other for a moment. Blood was splattered across Vaas’ face and down his chin, not a scratch on him.

     "What did you do that for?” Ash gasped, frozen on the concrete. Vaas flashed him a bloody smile.

     "Now he matches.” He glanced at the door and started twisting in his straitjacket. “Fucking thing - keep watch, amado.”

Ash shook his head, forcing himself up.

     "They’re used to hearing screams from here. Besides, those doors lock.” This was it, this was their - his - chance, no time to think. “Turn around, I’ll do it.”  
Vaas complied, and Ash tugged off the bindings as fast as he could. His soulmate threw away the jacket, spitting after it, and immediately crossed to the large windows. A quick look out into the twilight and he seemed satisfied. Before Ash could stop him, he’d grabbed Thompson by the front of his suit and threw him through the glass.

Ash slapped a hand to his mouth.

Vaas jumped down onto the grass outside, reached down and snagged Thompson, throwing him over a shoulder, and strode towards the old steel fence. He glanced back at the trashed room.

     "Come on, amado, keep up!”

Ash hesitated.

He looked at the doors. At the limp bodies of the knuckleheaded orderlies. At the equipment scattered across the floor. At the window, and the trees that shifted in the breeze outside it.

Vaas was whistling by the time Ash landed on the grass and hurried to catch up.

Ash wished he could say he was able to keep up with the man, but a week or so of eating wasn’t enough to build up what he’d lost over his stay in the hospital. While Vaas was able to boost himself and the unconscious body of Thompson over 6-foot high railings at the same time without breaking a sweat, Ash was shaking like a leaf by the end of it, pale and nauseous from the exertion. When he turned around, he found his soulmate staring at him through the darkness, evaluating.

Before he could say anything, Vaas was moving again.

He wasn’t sure how far they went through the undergrowth, sticking to the ditch alongside the road and ducking behind trees when headlights appeared. Vaas stopped them for frequent breaks, taking the time to rip strips from the bottom of Ash’s shirt in order to hogtie and gag Thompson. Ash didn’t object - the shirt was way too big anyway, though he did wonder why they still had the man.

The breaks only lasted as long as it took Ash to get his breath back and stop trembling. No words were exchanged as they continued. Vaas was focused on the area around them, only glancing back every now and then to check on Ash’s progress, and Ash was busy forcing himself forward without stumbling or slowing them down. Only during their breaks did he have time to realise the full extent of what they’d done, how much trouble they were in, and to listen for the sirens when the staff found the bodies or the orderlies came to.

He hoped they would come to.

Christ, what if he’d killed someone-

Then the break was over and they were moving again, and Ash had no spare energy for panic or guilt.

It felt like several hours had passed before they came across their first road sign; Vaas studied it briefly before leading them onwards. Ash wasn’t familiar enough with the area to know where they were; all he could do was follow his soulmate’s lead. He started measuring their progress by the number of breaks taken.

Ten breaks after the sign, Thompson groaned. Ash’s head jerked up at the sound and he stumbled, nearly crashing into the dirt. He caught himself just in time and looked up to find Vaas looking back at him, though it was too dark to catch his expression. Ash sucked in a shuddering breath and nodded, ready to carry on. Vaas examined him for a moment longer before he turned and continued.

A few minutes later, Thompson raised his head and looked around. His words were muffled but the tone was confused. Ash tried to swallow his panic and concentrate on moving forward. As the doctor started squirming, Vaas signalled to Ash that they were taking a break. He dumped Thompson as Ash stumbled to the ground, shaking like a newborn lamb. Just as the doctor looked up, Vaas punched him square in the face and knocked him out with the crack of a broken nose. The man was out for the rest of the trip.

Ash tried not to think about him.

The moon was well risen by the time they reached buildings. They all looked like rickety shacks to Ash but one appeared to be some sort of bar, though he could never have picked it out without the music and bright neon light spilling from its door onto the road. Half a dozen people milled about on the opposite side of the road underneath buzzing lights, drinking and chatting, playing cards and smoking. Vaas took them further into the jungle to avoid notice and dumped Thompson carelessly behind a large tree, signalling for a break.

Ash collapsed next to him and focused on not throwing up as Vaas rummaged through the doctor’s pockets. He pulled out a few ID cards for the hospital, some business cards, and a notepad and pencil, all of which he pocketed before taking the watch from the doctor’s wrist. He held it up to a patch of moonlight and looked it over closely.

     "Rolex.” He gave a low whistle and grinned at Ash. The watch went in his pocket too, and Vaas stripped off Thompson’s suit jacket. He peered at the brand. “Expensive. I like expensive things.”

The jacket was folded over his arm and he pinned Ash with a hard, considering stare. Ash didn’t want to think about how he looked right now, shivering and sweating despite the cool night air and trying not to vomit up what little food he had left in his stomach. Vaas pointed at him.

     "You, stay here. He wakes up, smack him over the head with a branch or something. Got it, hermano?”

     "Why? Where are you-”

     "Gotta make a call.”

Ash looked over to the makeshift bar, then back at Vaas.

     "Your men?” Vaas nodded. Ash eyed Thompson’s crumpled form. “A-alright.”

He settled himself more comfortably on the ground and was rewarded with a clap on the shoulder.

     "I’ll get you a beer or something.” Vaas whispered, sparing a wink as he stood and moved away. Ash watched him approach the roadside bar, their bond growing tight and uncomfortable at the distance. Vaas gave no indication of noticing, sauntering into the group like he belonged there and singling out a couple of men towards the back. They chatted for a few moments. Vaas gestured at the jacket. They looked it over, one even tried it on, before nodding and exchanging a few more words. After haggling over a price, cash was exchanged, hands were shaken, and Vaas ducked inside the bar.

Ash shivered and hugged his knees. Around him, the jungle buzzed and whirred, fading in and out of the rumble from the road and bar. Thompson lay beside the tree, only his chest moving to let Ash know he was alive. Ash squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about the orderly he’d electrocuted, tried not to wonder about his parents and what they’d do when they heard he was missing.

He focused on his breathing and the sounds of the living jungle around him.

His head grew heavy, so he rested it on his knees. The noise of the night hummed along, began to fade in and out of his awareness. He almost didn’t recognise the sound of footsteps until they were almost upon him.

Ash jerked awake just as Vaas rounded the tree. The look he received was enough to know he’d been caught, but Ash was too tired to care.

     "We’ve got to move, amado.”

Ash blinked at him, eyes sluggish.

     "Now?”

     "Yes.” Vaas’ tone brooked no argument; he was already lifting Thompson over his shoulder and standing. Ash sucked in a breath and dragged himself to his feet. His limbs felt like lead, awkward and difficult to move. He wanted to ask how much longer they had to go but it didn’t matter.

Vaas was already moving and the tether in Ash’s chest pulled him along behind.

As they went further, the shacks grew in number and density. Eventually they were skirting the edge of what Ash could only describe as a slum, haphazardly built and poorly lit. Feral dogs and wild monkeys scampered through the alleys and across telephone lines, arguing with each other and among themselves. Here and there, groups of people gathered outside buildings that looked no different to any others, sharing news and drinking. The sounds of children and families filtered down from windows and roads were cracked and pitted with potholes.

Ash could barely take in the change in scenery. Every step felt like hell now, his body was one big bruise and his head was splitting with pain. Vaas kept glancing back at him, but he hadn’t allowed a break since they left the bar. Ash’s vision was swimming, the ground under him felt uneven, but he had to keep going. If he fell, he wouldn’t get up again.

Then he walked face-first into Vaas’ back.

He stumbled, making a small noise of surprise. Vaas didn’t seem to notice. He was - he was speaking to another person, passing Thompson over to someone else. Ash forced himself to focus through the haze that had settled over his mind, to try and take in the scene around him.

They were outside a building, set back from the roads. In front of them stood three men, listening to Vaas with rapt attention. They were dressed in khaki and red, scuffed and dirty, and each one had a gun strapped to his belt. They looked like men who knew how to fight; they looked like a gang. Wary concern needled at Ash’s dulled, tired senses. He couldn’t see Thompson.

Then Vaas had a hand on his clothed shoulder and was guiding him inside, shooting off orders to the men around him. Ash tried to pay attention, but the world was fading in and out of focus and his thoughts and head and eyes seemed so heavy. He was pushed onwards a little further and turned around, then his knees hit a bed and he was being lowered onto a mattress.

He was tired, he was so damn tired. He couldn’t move his head from the pillow, there was a hand rubbing his back, large and warm, and he could hear Vaas’ voice next to him, speaking to him. He couldn’t make out the words, but he was there. The bond between them was growing lax and contented and maybe it was safe…

Maybe it was safe to…

To...

Ash was asleep before he could finish the thought.


	5. Interlude

Dr Thompson groaned.

His nose throbbed, his back and neck prickled in pain, and one of his hands stung. He was slumped over in his chair, head lolling on his chest. This was unusual, he’d never fallen asleep at his desk before. Thompson prised his eyes open, expecting to see papers or folders.

Instead he found himself, bound to a sturdy chair, missing his tweed jacket and his gold watch. Flustered, Thompson looked around, wincing at the crick in his neck. He was in some sort of basement with rough stone walls and a tamped-down earth floor. He couldn’t understand it, the hospital didn’t have any areas like this -

A hatch opened in front of him, revealing a bamboo ladder propped up beneath it. As Thompson gaped at it, a familiar voice reached him.

     "- don’t you fucking bother him, got it? He needs his rest. Soon as you find a doctor, flash whatever cash you need to, bring him here and get me. No one steps foot in that fucking room without me. You understand, hermano?”

The indistinct reply went unnoticed by Thompson. He was frozen, confusion giving way to indignation and dread. Boots appeared on the ladder and brought into view the back of Vaas Montenegro.

He’d gotten rid of his hospital uniform somehow. Now he was clad in military boots and khakis, a worn red vest covered his chest, pistol strapped to one side of his belt and a knife to the other. Vaas tugged the hatch shut after himself and span to face Thompson, grinning.

     "Good evening, doctor! How are you feeling?”

Thompson gaped at the man’s playful tone as Vaas snagged a chair from a corner he’d overlooked and swung it around in front of him. As the man straddled it, resting his arms on the back, Thompson’s brain managed to re-engage with his mouth.

     "What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Montenegro?” He spluttered. Vaas cocked his head, still smiling. “When they find you missing - when they find _me_ missing! - the police will hunt you down! We have _protocols_ for this sort of thing!”

     "You know something, doctor? I owe you.” Vaas told him. Thompson paused, mouth flapping like a fish out of water. “I’m going to level with you, hermano, I was in…” He gave a low whistle, shaking his head. “... a _really_ bad place, you know? I’d lost my island. My men. I’d been betrayed by my own fucking family. My sister had inked up this white boy - ah, it’s a long story, you don’t need to know that. But I ended up stabbed, right in the fucking heart.”

He pulled down the collar of his vest to reveal the scar of a puncture wound, just to the right of his sternum. Thompson hadn’t specialised in physical medicine - hadn’t studied it in a long time - but even he could recognise the near-fatal nature of the injury. He hadn’t expected this - family conflict, loss of property, status, and resources, actual _honesty_ about his background - and found himself desperately trying to commit everything to memory as his patient continued.

     "And you know what hurt the most? It was my own sister who sent him after me. My own fucking sister, hermano. Sent a California white boy because I wasn’t useful anymore.” He huffed and returned his arms to the back of the chair, shaking his head, watching the doctor with eyes that seemed to burn green in the dim lamp-light of the earth basement. “Ask me how that makes me feel, amigo.”

Thompson hesitated.

     "Are you fucking deaf?” Vaas lurched forward, snarling at him, and the doctor flinched against his bonds. “I said: _ask me how I fucking feel!_ ”

     "H-how does that make you feel?” Thompson echoed. Vaas slouched back, gesturing at him.

     "There you go! Finally you sound like a fucking shrink doing his job!” He looked off into the distance, frowning. “It made me fucking pissed, man. It really did. But that’s what loved ones do, no? They take and take and _take_ \- then when you have no more to give, when you’re on your last fucking leg, they blindside you. Make it out to be all about them! Demand a fucking choice, as if you even need to make one! ‘It’s them or me, Vaas! _Me or them!_ ’” He paused and let his head drop, took a deep breath. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m cool. Point is, hermano - point is - I was in a bad fucking place when I arrived at your little hospital. Lost my freedom, lost my hope… lost my fucking heart. Then, you bring me right to the one thing I’ve been looking for my entire life.” He lifted his left arm and turned it palm-up, exposing his soulmark to Thompson’s gaze for the first time.

Neat, careful script spelt out three letters in emerald green against his tanned skin, the name and favourite colour of his soulmate.

_Ash_

Thompson’s gaze flicked back up to Vaas, who was staring at his wrist with the softest expression he’d seen on the man, barring when they’d used chemical restraints to knock him out.

     "The one thing that was completely mine, you know? Citra couldn’t fucking touch my Ash, she couldn’t take him away from me. Oh, she wanted to. ‘Why do you need someone else, Vaas, you’ve got me, Vaas, aren’t I enough, Vaas?’” He snorted, running a thumb over his mark. “Fucking bitch always hated that I would be whole without her.”

Then he looked up, pinning Thompson with a cold, dark stare.

     "But what do I find, when I meet my Ash, doctor?” The chair creaked as Vaas leaned forward. “What do I see has happened to the other half of my soul, huh?” He stood and stalked around the chair to crouch in front of Thompson. The doctor felt sweat prickle on his forehead. “I find a fucking skeleton, beaten to shit, with electricity burned into his skull.” Vaas hissed, pressing his fingers to each temple as if to demonstrate. “Now tell me, doctor: what the fuck is up with that?”

Thompson swallowed to clear his throat.

     "ECT, or electroconvulsive therapy, is a s-safe and highly thought-of procedure,” He began, fighting to keep his voice from trembling under the searing gaze of his patient, “conducted around the world. It has been shown to help those who, uh, who cannot take medication for various reasons…” His words stuttered under Vaas’ glare, which was growing darker and uglier by the second. He needed a different approach. “Ashley’s parents were very clear - they demanded that treatment!”

     "I don’t know any fucking _‘Ashley’_ , doctor.” Vaas told him quietly. His eyes burned in the low light. Thompson hesitated.

     " _A-Ash’s_ parents.” He conceded. The man in front of him nodded.

     "They demanded it, huh?”

     "Yes.” Thompson told him, sweat running down his brow. Vaas nodded again.

     "They paid for it?”

     "Yes!” The doctor stressed. “They told me to do it!”

     "Okay.” Vaas stood, nodding to himself, and moved behind Thompson, out of sight. “Okay.” The doctor craned his head at the sound of things being shuffled about, but to no avail. “And the beatings? What about them?”

     "Um -” Thompson twisted against his bonds. The rope wouldn’t give. “- the, uh, the orderlies were frequently unsupervised when they moved Miss - _mister_ \- Mister Crews about. A-and you know, they don’t react well to incitement, but without first-hand witness there was nothing I could do!”

     "That,” Vaas replied, calm as death, “is bullshit, doctor.” He moved back into view, kicking a stool next to Thompson’s chair. The doctor’s breath seized as he placed a car battery on top of it.

     "I - I mean it!” He squeaked. “I couldn’t do anything, I had no control -” Vaas clipped on the red jump-cable. “Jesus, look - I’m sorry, alright! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt her! It was never my choice!” Vaas clipped on the black jump-cable. “Please! It was her parents, they threatened me! I didn’t want to do it! Please, don’t!” Vaas touched the ends of the cables, two round sponge-like discs, together. Thompson flinched at the crack. “What do you want?!” He shrieked.

Vaas watched him, expression blank.

     "I want you to feel it.” He whispered. “I want you to feel it and know just how strong Ash is. Just how unbreakable his will is. I want you to realise just how far from being a man you are. But mostly...” He moved behind Thompson and positioned his hands on either side of the man’s head. “I just want to enjoy this.”


	6. Early steps

Ash wavered in and out of consciousness. He was able to piece together his surroundings in whatever short burst of awareness he could get before being dragged down again. His room was had rough wood walls and a single, unshaded lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. There were windows with shutters across from his bed, through which a pleasant breeze brought sounds of a city. The shutters remained closed, either to keep out the light and heat or prying eyes, or both. Over the floor was a ratty-looking rush mat, leading to an equally battered-looking door. The only furniture was his bed, a small table with a glass and a pitcher of water next to it, and a chair in the corner.

Ash may have had no idea where he was, but the simple fact that it wasn’t the hospital made this the best room he’d ever seen in his life.

He blinked, struggling with the weight of his eyelids, only to find that evening had fallen. He must’ve been more tired than he’d realised. The door was now open a crack, letting light from the rooms beyond fall across the wall and floorboards. Ash could hear a radio, the clink of glasses, and several voices chatting and laughing. When he focused on his bond, he could tell that Vaas was nearby.

It was enough to convince him that all was well, and he slept again.

Hands on his arm jerked him awake and his fists lashed out before he was fully aware of what was happening. The stranger who’d touched him had to jump back to avoid being punched.

Ash blinked at him, confused and exhausted, when a familiar chuckle reached him.

     "Told you he was a fighter, didn’t I?” Vaas’ hand came down on his shirt, pushing his back onto the bed. “Calm the fuck down, amado. Got to be checked over, understand?”

Ash didn’t, but he didn’t have the strength to push back either, so he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift. His mate was in the room, he wouldn’t be hurt.

     "Get on with it, hermano.” He heard Vaas growl.

     "Right, right…” The stranger muttered, before Ash felt hands on him again. Taking his pulse, checking his muscles, and the stranger’s voice mumbling notes above him. Ash cracked his eyes open.

To his right stood Vaas, arms crossed, watching the stranger like a hawk. Looming over them both like this, his mere presence was a weight in the room, and the stranger was getting jumpy, eyes flickering over to him every now and then.

His eyes slid shut just as the man stood and reached for a book.

     "He’ll need a special diet and exercise regime to make a full recovery. So long as you stick to it, there shouldn’t be any complications. It’ll take a long time, though. A couple of months before he’ll be strong enough to start building muscle again.” A pen scribbled on paper. “I’ll draw up the sort of thing you need to follow. Soups and broth to start with - his stomach will have shrunk and attacked itself, it won’t be able to keep down anything more complex than that - then we can start working up to solid foods.” A page was torn off and handed over. “If in doubt, keep everything simple. If he throws it up, the damage may undo everything.” There was a pause, heavy as the humid air. “I’ll have a more complete plan written up by tomorrow, including the exercise regime. I’ll need to double-check some details in my office. You have the salve for the burns but there’s nothing else to be done about the bruises.”

Vaas grunted.

     "Can - can I go?” The stranger ventured.

     "Si, si, fuck off.”

The man scuttled from the room, followed by someone in the hallway. Ash opened his eyes to find Vaas still mulling over the paper.

     "Is this the point I find out you’re a shit cook?” Ash croaked. It startled a bark of laughter from the man, who grinned down at him.

     "You’re such a fucking smartass, Ashy.”

     "You love it.” His throat felt like sandpaper in the desert and he ended up coughing. Before he’d even finished, Vaas had hooked his hands under his arms and hauled him up, sitting propped against the wall. Ash blinked down at himself - he was still wearing his hospital shirt and Vaas had been careful to use the short sleeves when he lifted the scrawny man. That was… that was surprisingly thoughtful.

As Ash got his words in order and his head straight, Vaas stuffed the paper into a pocket and plopped himself down on the bed, cross-legged and facing his skinny soulmate with a wide grin.

     "I have a surprise for you, hermano.”

     "Yeah?”

Vaas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, as Ash managed to grab the glass of water next to the bed.

     "You’ll have to wait a while to see it, it’s not ready _just_ yet, but I think you’ll like it! I’m taking my time with it, you know? Making sure everything’s just so!”

Ash raised an eyebrow, pausing his drink to look over the other man. Vaas seemed very amused by _something_ , hell if he knew what, though.

     "Right.” He settled with. “So… how long has it been?”

     "Not long, just over 24 hours.”

     "They’re looking for us?” Ash guessed, anxiety beginning to churn in his belly. Vaas shrugged.

     "There’s been radio chatter. They won’t find us, amado.” The certainty in his voice was absolute. Ash found himself wanting to hold onto it - it was a great deal more pleasant than panicking over what they’d done and what would happen if (when?) _if_ they were caught.

     "Do you know if - if that orderly -” Did he want to know the answer to this? His hand was shaking. He didn’t dare look up at Vaas. “- if I killed him?”

There was a moment’s silence. Ash’s heart lurched. Vaas shifted, bending down to catch his eye, and Ash’s gaze flickered up to him before he could stop the movement.

     "I hope you did.” Vaas’s voice was cold. Then he shrugged. “But no, I don’t know.”

There was no lie in his eyes. No omission of truth to soothe Ash’s feelings. Ash’s hands kept trembling, clutched around the glass and the little water left inside.

He hoped… he _hoped_ Ash was a killer.

And he wasn’t looking away.

Ash broke the gaze, unsure of what he was feeling, uncertain of the tether pulsing between their souls.

     "Who - who was that, just now?”

He could feel Vaas’ stare burning into his skin, judging, evaluating, like everyone else who looked at him did. Then it was gone, and Vaas was leaning back, cheerful as ever.

     "Just some doctor, lives nearby. He’s being paid enough to keep his fucking mouth shut, so don’t worry about that, amado.” He clapped a hand over Ash’s thigh; even under a thin blanket and cotton trousers, Ash could’ve sworn he felt his skin tingling at the closeness. “We’re going to be here for a while - fucking kills me to say it, amado, but it’s the truth - same shit that got me here is still fucking going down on my island. Best to lay low for a while, give orders, prepare before we head back. I am so sorry, amado, but I won’t be able to show you my island straight away.” The man sighed, apparently heartbroken by the admission. Ash couldn’t help but snort at the sight.

     "Can’t show off all your riches? Christ, how will you survive?”

They chuckled together.

     "Sarcastic little shit.” Vaas beamed at him. His thumb began rubbing circles on Ash’s thigh. Ash tried not to squirm at the motions, tried to fight back a blush. “But it does give us time to feed you up, get some fucking meat on those bones. The jungle will eat you up and spit you out, amado. Only the strong make it.”

     "R-right.”

     "Not that you’re not strong already, you know?” Vaas tapped the side of his head. “You got more strength up here than anyone, amado. The way you pushed yourself getting out? That proves it, no? I half expected you to drop a mile from that fucking place.”

     "Only half?” That was giving Ash way too much credit, he was certain. “Come on, I must’ve looked like a walking corpse.”

     "Well, yeah, you did.” Vaas smirked, then his hand slid up, closer to Ash’s hip. Ash froze, heart pounding. “But you’re _my_ fucking soulmate, amado. Of course you’d be tougher than any little shit.”

Ash was definitely blushing now, anticipation coiling low in his belly. He tried, desperately, to think of what to say - surely people said something in this sort of situation? Shit, what was normal? What should he do - then Vaas was leaning closer, propping his free hand next to Ash, the other still creeping up his thigh.

     "You pushed yourself on like a champ, amado.” He murmured, and _oh_ his face was very close to Ash’s now. “Half my own fucking men, they’d have whined and bitched like a pussy, you know? But you-” Vaas’ hand finally reached its goal, pressing between his legs. Ash couldn’t stop the whine that slipped between his teeth; his legs tried to press together, but Vaas’ broad frame was in the way. “-you were a fucking soldier, amado.”

Vaas pressed a kiss against Ash’s shoulder, skin still separated by cloth. The urge to touch, to finally seal the connection, thrummed through Ash’s skin.

     "You kept your head, kept quiet, stayed on your feet right to the fucking end…” Vaas raised his head to whisper right into Ash’s ear. “That deserves a reward, no?”

Ash panted out a _yes_ -

Someone hammered on the door.

     "Boss! Boss! There’s been word on the radio-”

That was the moment Ash realised he’d never seen Vaas really, _truly_ pissed off before. But right now, as Vaas stormed over to the door and flung it open, he found himself hoping his soulmate punched whoever was there.

     " _What the fuck is it?_ ” Vaas screamed at the man, who leapt back from the threshold.

     "Uh-”

     " _Why the fuck are you here? The door was shut, couldn’t you see the door was fucking shut? Are you fucking blind, amigo?_ ”

     "No, boss-”

     " _Then why the fuck did you knock, you piece of shit?_ ”

     "Hoyt’s dead.”

There was silence.

     "Dead?” Ash managed to hear Vaas whisper. “Did you say dead?”

     "Yes, boss.” The man nodded, apparently relieved he wasn’t about to get hit or worse. “His whole inner circle, we think Brody-”

Vaas cut him off with a wave, turning to glance at Ash. He had an odd expression, both jittering excitement and torn longing, as he looked over at the bed. Ash was just glad he’d managed to get his own breathing under control.

     "Fuck, this was bad timing.” Vaas groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. He turned to face his soulmate properly and gestured at the door apologetically. “I’m so sorry, amado. Work. You know how it is.” Ash didn’t but he nodded anyway. ”We’ll have to pick this up another time, hm?” Ash nodded again, feeling a flush creep onto his cheeks. Vaas’ slow grin showed he’d seen it. He sent Ash a wink. “Until next time, amado.”

He span back to the door, shooing the other away.

     "What about his fucking cronies?” Ash caught him hiss just before the door closed.

He let out a long breath, sagging against the pillow. That - that interruption was probably a good thing, now he thought of it. He still didn’t know anything about Vaas, not really, and the hints he _was_ getting weren’t exactly painting the picture of a life lived within the law. He couldn’t afford to be tempted into sealing the bond just because his bloody libido decided now was a good time to raise its head.

His head began to throb with the beginnings of a headache, and Ash realised he was still clutching the glass of water like a lifeline. He sipped until half of it was gone and set it back on the stool.

The light slanting in from the shutters was strong and the breeze floating over was warm and carried the smell of baked earth and hay. Ash guessed it was about midday, possibly early afternoon. Now all the excitement was gone, the buzz of insects and scents of summer began to lull him to sleep. His soulbond wasn’t tugging too much - Vaas wasn’t far, after all - so he had nothing to fight the drowsiness with.

In a few moments, he was asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos, the great comments and encouragement so far! It really means a lot to me that there are people enjoying this fic and I hope you continue to enjoy it as we go on, after all, Ash and Vaas aren't quite out of the woods just yet...


	7. Recovery

The next few days, Ash only woke to eat, drink, and use the toilet. By the time his body decided it could leave off the sleeping-saves-energy routine, most of his bruises had faded to a dull greeny-purple and his body no longer felt like it would shake apart. The physician, who insisted Ash called by his first name of Kasem (which was just as well, Ash couldn’t think of the word ‘doctor’ without wanting to punch something anymore), had seemed pleased.

     "Your recovery’s coming along at a good pace!” Kasem had beamed at him. “You should start moving around, taking little walks around the house, that sort of thing.”

Ash had only made a face in reply. He still felt horribly shaky at that point and he hated it, hated how weak he felt all the time.

     "Your muscles need movement to start building up again.” Kasem had told him sternly. “It won’t happen unless you push yourself. The more you walk, the quicker you’ll feel like yourself again.”

Vaas seemed to agree, because the next time Ash woke up, he met with the sight of another stranger following Vaas into his room. The new guy was just as powerfully built as Vaas, except he had darker skin, dark eyes, and a scar cutting right across his throat. It made Ash’s neck twinge just looking at it. He appeared to be one of Vaas’ men - same outfit, same shade of red, same weapons.

     "Amado, meet Carlos!” Vaas clapped the other on the back. “He’ll be looking after you when I’m not around.”

Ash gave Carlos a confused look. Carlos just stared back, impassive as a statue, arms crossed. He looked bored already.

     "I’m not five, Vaas. I can walk around a house without managing to kill myself.”

Vaas smirked, but something in his eyes was hard, serious.

     "We got some new guys around, amado. Gotta train them up, sort shit out, you know? They won’t know not to fucking touch you and I’ve not got time to fucking shoot them if they do.” Another joke? Ash hoped it was another joke. “Carlos here can keep them in line just fine.”

Then he shooed Carlos away and moved to sit on the end of the bed again. Ash watched the other man close the door behind him as he left - for a such a big man, he moved with surprising stealth. Ash had felt the boards shudder when other men stomped about in their combat boots.

     "You don’t have to worry about him, amado. Carlos is my hermano.”

Ash eyed Vaas, who seemed to be shuffling as close as he could.

     "You’re sure?”

Vaas shrugged.

     "He’s fucking loyal. When I was taken, he killed that doctor piece of shit, kept the boys together, got them moved somewhere secure.” Vaas was eyeing the blanket over his legs as he spoke. “He knew I’d be back, you know? He’s got a fucking brain in that head. Even if he’s a boring fucker sometimes.”

He started to move his hand.

     "No.” Ash snapped. Vaas’ gaze flickered up and they stared each other down in silence. “I said: no, Vaas.”

It was risky. He wouldn’t have been able fight his soulmate off even at full strength. _How much protection do I have?_

Vaas fell back, huffing like a sulky toddler.

     "Fine.”

Ash rolled his eyes at the pouting and swung his legs out of bed.

     "There a shower around here somewhere?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d washed, let alone looked in a mirror. He didn’t even want to _think_ about how badly he stank.

Vaas hopped off the bed and led the way out of the room and down a hallway. Ash followed, surprised to find the hall was more of a balcony that overlooked a courtyard with high walls. Various ramshackle benches and tables were set up, with other… gang members, Ash supposed… eating, drinking, or just chatting. Along one wall, a weight-lifting area had been set up and a few men were trying their muscle there.

A little way along the balcony-hallway, Carlos was leaning against a wall, scanning the courtyard below. As Vaas walked past, he lunged, as if to tackle the man.

Carlos gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

     "You never fucking flinch, hermano.” Vaas chuckled. “I’ll make you, one day.”

Carlos sent Ash a long-suffering look and raised his eyes to the ceiling, before returning to his vigil of the courtyard.

Ash liked him already.

***

Ash managed to walk a little further every day. He was finally on solid foods again and the difference was showing; besides, he was sick and tired of looking at the same 4 walls every day. First, he only managed to reach the end of the balcony area. Then he got halfway down the stairs (Carlos had caught him when his legs finally gave way in protest). He managed to find out the building was actually one of several in a compound. The surrounding walls were concrete topped with barbed wire, there were guard shifts and sentry towers, guard dogs too. Not that they acted like them when Ash had said hello. More like overgrown puppies. Carlos and their regular handlers had kept their distance, watching in near disbelief as Ash dished out belly scratch after belly scratch. Ash had always been good with animals. He’d met a bunch of Vaas’ men - when Carlos allowed it. He trusted the man enough not to object when Carlos told someone to fuck off, or warned him to avoid a particular group.

He’d even began exploring the other buildings, bit by bit.

At least, the ones he was allowed to go in.

Whatever work was keeping Vaas busy happened behind closed doors, at the far end of the compound. Every time he wandered too close, Carlos steered him away, only grunting out “Boss’s orders” whenever Ash asked why.

Every time, Ash felt unease crawl up his throat.

When Vaas did turn up, it was always at the end of the day. Sometimes he’d be chipper and relaxed (after working on his ‘surprise’, though he still insisted it wasn’t ready yet), clapping Ash on the back and asking about his day, always proud and enthusiastic to hear how far he’d walked that day. Other times he’d be quiet. Pacing around the room, their bond tight and uncomfortable, thrumming with the pent-up stress.

Those were the days Ash felt like he was trying to tread water in the middle of the ocean. Like he was barely keeping his head above water and it was only a matter of time before he was dragged under by a hidden current.

Whatever Vaas did, whatever he was doing… how long until Ash was pulled in? Would Ash be able to hack it? Would he _want_ to?

     "What exactly _do_ you guys do?” Ash asked Carlos one morning as the man tried to teach him poker. Carlos raised an eyebrow at him.

     "Why’d you want to know?”

     "Don’t deflect with another question.” Ash huffed, collecting his cards.

Carlos grunted, and studied his own for a moment. He pushed a couple of bottle-caps into the centre of the table. The best they could do, since Ash had no money and matchsticks weren’t as easily available.

     "You’re a gang, right? You’ve got to do _something._ ” Ash pressed, seeing his bet. Carlos was silent, placing down the first few cards.

     "What do you think we do?”

     "Fuck’s sake, Carlos.” Ash huffed. The man smirked at him. Sometimes, it was like trying to convince a brick wall to become a doorway. Still, he mulled over the question as Carlos raised.

     "I think… I think you run drugs. And weapons.” It wasn’t a difficult thing to guess, Ash had seen a fair amount of both around the compound. Carlos gave a single nod. Ash saw his raise and added two more caps. “You… you don’t do human trafficking, though.”

Carlos hesitated.

     "You don’t, right?” Ash pressed, voice low.

     "I shouldn’t be talking about this.” Carlos muttered, eyes flickering to the doorway of the room they were in. Outside, the compound lounged in the midday heat. No one was outside. Everything was quiet.

If Ash wanted any answers, now was the time to push.

     "You - you know what I am to-” It felt almost like a jinx to mention Vaas by name, “-to your boss, right?” Carlos’ gaze cut to Ash’s left wrist, then shifted away guiltily. He nodded. “Well… I have to decide if I want to stay. How can I decide if I don’t know anything about what he does? What you do?”

Carlos fidgeted in his seat, pointedly not meeting Ash’s gaze.

     "You’re good for him.” He rumbled, though the words seemed reluctantly pulled into the open. “You calm him. No, seriously.” He added at Ash’s disbelieving snort. “You haven’t seen him manic, truly manic, like when he was on the blow. He’d go into rages, he’d take it out on anyone. Now… now he goes to see you and it just…” He shrugged one massive shoulder, “falls away, I guess.”

     "Giving you a safe working environment isn’t enough for me to stick around in limbo.” Ash muttered, fiddling with his cards.

     "No, no, I guess not.” Carlos sighed, running a hand over his face. It dropped to his knee and he stared at the soulbond-cover on his wrist, thoughtful. “My mate was the same.”

     "Are they here?”

Carlos shook his head.

     "No, back on the islands. She was a whore in Badtown when I found her, runs a stripclub there now.”

     "Nice.”

Carlos hummed in agreement, before pinning Ash with a stare.

     "Vaas got me the money to buy it for her.”

Ash could feel his eyebrows raise at that.

     "The streets weren’t safe.” Carlos explained, leaning forward to see Ash’s raise. “I didn’t want to wake up to find her dead, or beaten to shit. Vaas found out I was scraping money together. When he heard it was for my mate, he helped out, sent jobs my way when he wouldn’t have before. It didn’t matter we hadn’t sealed the bond.” He stopped, smirking at a memory. “Boss doesn’t do charity, but he respects soulbonds. He respects it when people act to protect their mates, no matter who they are or what they do.”

     "You didn’t seal it straight away?” Ash was sure that most people did. He’d seen people hugging their soulmates in school the moment they’d felt the bond form. The thought of someone doing that to him had always left Ash flinching away from anyone who reached out.

     "Nope, but I reckon she’d have gladly punched me if she could’ve.” Carlos chuckled. He checked, rapping on the table. “We… back on the islands we were…” He huffed out a sigh. “We did some fucked up shit, Ash. Kidnapping, ransoming… we murdered locals and natives, hostages who’s families wouldn’t pay. Those who did pay we didn’t release. We had to send them to our _actual_ boss, Hoyt Volker. He -he sold them into slavery.”

Hoyt - Hoyt - Ash had heard that name before...

     "He’s dead now.” Ash mumbled. Carlos nodded.

     "And burning in hell, I fucking hope.”

     "Does - does that mean you won’t - do that? Anymore?”

Carlos shrugged.

     "Depends how much is left of his network. Big money in slavery, but fucking difficult to build up the contacts. If Brody’s done a decent job, chances are Vaas’ll just say ‘fuck it’ and stick to ransom.”

Something eased in Ash’s chest at that. He looked down to find his hands shaking. The bond was responding to his stress, growing tighter, and he had to focus for a moment to soothe it before it drew Vaas to them. Carlos was being honest, he didn’t want to land him in hot water.

They revealed their cards at the same time and Ash grimaced as Carlos scooped his winnings away. He passed the deck over and Ash shuffled and dealt in silence. They peered at their cards as the cicadas buzzed outside.

     "Thanks, man.” He muttered. Carlos shrugged.

     "Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me so far - I love reading your comments, they've given me some ideas for continuing the series but we're not heading to the Islands _just_ yet. There's still some demons to deal with on the mainland, after all...


	8. True Colours

If Ash was totally honest with himself, one of his biggest problems was the way he could overthink anything. If left alone to his own devices, he could (and often had) thought himself in circles to the point of being unable to do or decide anything. He’d managed to talk himself out of buying his mother a bouquet on mother’s day, then talked himself out of buying her a teddy bear, even out of buying chocolates. He’d had to phone up his grandmother in the middle of the supermarket, choking back tears and trying to pull out his hair in frustration.

If he was even more honest with himself, he knew where this tendency came from. His mother was notorious among her own family and circle of friends for being overly-exacting and critical. His father was scarcely any better. The best gifts Ash had ever been able to get them were picked out by his grandparents months in advance, and boy didn’t that make him feel like the wonderful child they deserved?

He dealt with that by ignoring it. Burying it so thoroughly with work and hobbies that he could barely remember what caused him to start shaking and bursting out into tears every now and then.

It was a lot easier since the whole hospital incident (another trick Ash had learnt - deal with really shitty moments by referring to them as Incidents), now he had a soulmate to figure out, a gang to learn how to navigate, and actual issues with the law to concern himself with. Family issues seemed far less pressing when you were grappling with the ethics of choosing between a life lived within the law and a life with your soulmate, especially when said mate was… amoral at best.

The point was, Ash knew how he worked. He knew that facing the issues head-on would just lead to him barricading himself in his room in panic until Vaas broke the door down. And that would just end poorly for everyone involved (and probably a fair few people _not_ involved too). The best way Ash knew to keep himself sane, was to keep himself busy.

He’d only just reached his halfway weight goal, so learning how to fight was out of the question. Ash wasn’t an idiot. Vaas’s life was dangerous and if he was going to stick around, he’d have to at least be able to defend himself until backup arrived. While Ash could no longer use his ribs to play the xylophone and could stand for an hour without fainting or throwing up, his limbs were still way too thin and he could feel how weak his grip was. The idea of going up to Carlos, or someone else who looked like they could punch through a car, and asking them to show him how to knock someone out was just laughable.

Besides which, Ash had a feeling Vaas wanted to teach him that stuff himself. Last week, a Swiss gang member (Devon, if Ash recalled correctly) had made an off-hand comment on how Ash should learn how to throw a punch and mentioned he had taught his brothers how to fight.

Vaas had thrown him off the balcony.

Luckily he’d landed on a few other guys who’d been passing underneath and they broke his fall. Apart from a few bruises (and bruised egos), no one was hurt. Vaas hadn’t even pulled a gun, which Ash was learning often happened when he was seriously angry. Carlos had told Vaas that he should tone down his warnings with the new guys and at the time, all Ash had done was roll his eyes and silently agree. Looking back, he didn’t know whether to laugh at the memory or worry about how unfazed he’d been by the whole event.

Regardless, the next best thing to keep him busy was learning about some of the weapons that littered the compound.

     “Show me how to do that.”

Vaas looked up from where he was cleaning his pistol, spread out in parts on the table in the middle of the room, and blinked at him. Around them, others that were considered ‘safe’ enough to get near Ash were relaxing in the early evening heat. Carlos and Jay, a wiry Puerto Rican teenager, were playing pool and bickering over some sports event from their homeland. Devon was playing poker with three others near the windows; Ash could catch snippets of their German conversation, they seemed to be talking about training schedules. At the sort-of-bar along the back wall, a gaggle of Thai guys were nursing whiskeys and complaining about the locals. It was rare to find Vaas in this sort of downtime, but whatever business had been demanding his attention for the last few weeks seemed to have stalled.

The compound was on edge. The dogs were excited, the men jittery, something was in the air. Carlos had denied any knowledge of what was up, but Ash couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. That they were waiting for a signal.

No better time to learn how guns worked.

Ash gestured to the 10mm strewn on the worktop as he sat opposite.

     “Show me.”

Vaas’ scarred eyebrows raised.

     “Really, amado? Didn’t take you for a gun-nut.”

Ash rolled his eyes.

     “I’m not, but - well - might as well learn how to use one, you know?”

Vaas shot him a wild grin.

     “You serious, hermano?” He was already reaching for another pistol, tugging it out of the waistband of the nearest gangster.

     “No, I’m asking for a friend.” Ash huffed, catching it as he slid it across the table.

     “Gimme a moment.” Vaas muttered, and he began re-assembling his own pistol, hands flying about too fast for Ash to keep pace. Finally, it was together in his hands and he leaned forward. “How good’s your grip, amado?”

Ash’s grimace was answer enough. Vaas grunted.

     “I’ll let you know when to hand it over. You’ll get your muscle back soon enough for this shit to sink in, anyway.”

     “Not soon enough.” Ash grumbled. Vaas kicked out his legs under the table so they were bracketing Ash’s, thick muscle pressed against thin limbs, only separated by a few thin pieces of cloth. Ash’s treacherous cheeks grew warm at the feeling, and grew warmer at the wink Vaas sent him. Times like this he wished that man wasn’t so… tactile.

     “Alright, watch carefully…”

***

Vaas was, surprisingly, a good teacher. Not because he was overly patient or anything like that, but because he made damn sure Ash knew what each piece did, how the gun worked, and how to load it. Ash had to repeat everything five times before he was satisfied. At last, Vaas cocked and released the empty pistol one last time (one of the stages where Ash’s grip was just too weak to manage). He tossed it aside and eyed Ash over the cigar he’d lit up earlier.

     “You ever fired a gun, amado?”

     “Not a pistol, or an automatic.” Ash replied. “They’re banned in Britain.” He added in response to Vaas’ raised eyebrow. “But I used to go hunting with Dad and his mates, I know my way around a shotgun and hunting rifle.”

Vaas made a thoughtful noise.

     “How good were you?”

Ash shrugged, looking down at his grease-stained hands. Never good enough, according to his father… he shoved the thought down, down, where it couldn’t touch him.

     “Decent. Nothing special.”

     “We’ll see.” Ash glanced up, wary. Vaas smirked at him. “Gotta check on your skills, amado.”

Carlos stopped next to the table, breaking the quiet little bubble they’d made. Ash looked around to find the sun had just set and the room was more crowded, men clustered around a TV set to watch a game.

     “Boss, the doc’s here.”

     “Fuckin’ finally.” Vaas snarled, jerking to his feet and gesturing for Ash to follow him. “Kept us waiting long enough.”

     “You’d done a number on your little project, Boss.” Carlos rumbled, stepping aside for Ash. “Not surprised it took this long if he did a half-decent job.”

Vaas chuckled as he moved towards the stairs. Ash shot Carlos a quizzical look, but the man only shook his head.

Because that wasn’t ominous at all.

It was Ash’s last check-up with Kasem, something that always took place upstairs in one of the private rooms. Vaas never liked anyone else being in the room, even snarling at Carlos to piss off before Kasem arrived. Ash had thought that he didn’t want anyone seeing Ash’s weakness but if the way Vaas’ eyes burned as he looked over Ash during the check-ups was anything to go by, he just wanted a private audience. Sure enough, Vaas snagged a chair to sprawl out in as soon as they were alone and waggled his eyebrows at Ash over his cigar.

Ash rolled his eyes at the man.

The door opened, and Kasem was ushered in. He looked paler than usual, his hands were shaking.

     “You alright?” Ash found himself asking. Kasen opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, sending Vaas a terrified look before squeaking out ‘fine’. Ash turned his stare on Vaas, who looked totally unbothered by it all, as Kasem cleared his throat.

     “S-sorry. Yes, I’m fine! Ah, right, your last check-up. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” He set his bag down and started rummaging through it without looking at Ash.

Huh. Weird. What the hell was Vaas’ little project?

Ash shrugged it off and pulled his shirt over his head, ready for when Kasem needed to prod at his muscles. The hospital uniform was long gone and burnt (one of the first things Ash did as soon as he was able to walk to the nearest fireplace), in its place was a red vest similar to the one Vaas wore, although it still hung off Ash’s boney frame.

The first time Vaas had handed him his new clothes, he’d gotten one glance at Ash in red and khaki before disappearing in the bathroom for a good ten minutes or so. He still grinned whenever he saw Ash in his shirt every morning.

Ash tried not to think to hard about that. It made him... flustered.

Just as flustered as he was now, when Vaas’ eyes were _burning_ through the cigar smoke, raking over Ash’s thin chest and pale, freckled skin. He wasn’t embarrassed to be shirtless, his chest looked the same as any man’s (just thinner at the moment), but he wasn’t used to being looked at with even half the amount of desire that he saw in Vaas’ gaze right now.

In an effort to keep himself from blushing or making a fool of himself, Ash focused on Kasem.

The physician took his measurements, his blood pressure and weight, and asked him a few questions before prodding at what little muscle was there. Ash suffered through the poking in silence, glad his bruises were long gone, and allowed his mind to wander. Outside, the compound murmured as it wound down for the night. Ash guessed the day shift was switching out with the night watch around about now; this was usually the time he went to help the dog handlers feed their animals. Ash had been complaining about boredom for the last few weeks or so, so it didn’t take much to convince Carlos (who then spoke to Vaas about it) to let him help out wherever he was allowed.

Not that he’d asked before doing it. Better forgiveness than permission, and all that.

As it happened, Vaas was all too happy to see Ash getting along with his gang. Especially when he saw how close Ash could get to some of the beasts they used as guard dogs. It was a bit weird that no one had bothered naming the dogs until Ash started helping out, but now the beasts would only answer to their names. They had the rottweilers Brutus, Apollo, and Atlas; the german shepards Vimes and Fang; and a Pitbull mix called Blue. It hadn’t taken long for the handlers to take over naming the rest of them, which added ridgeback Angpao, rotties Kola and Cocoa, and German Shepard Chaokuay.

Just as Kasem took his pulse, the dogs started barking. Ash glanced at the shutters covering the windows. Were they demanding dinner?

Kasem lowered his hands and opened his mouth to speak - and all hell broke loose.

An explosion ripped through the air, rattling the shutters and rocking the shack. Ash hit the floor before he could blink, his legs deciding the chance of survival was much higher the lower he was. Outside, gunfire roared to life over the screams and yells of the men. He looked up to find Kasem crouched next to him, hugging his medical bag to his chest, and Vaas tearing open the door, gun at the ready.

A quick glance at the chaos in the compound and Vaas spun, pointing at Ash.

     “Stay there, amado!” He didn’t wait for Ash’s answering nod before dashing outside to join the fray, slamming the door behind him. Ash winced as their bond went taut, almost painful with stress and the growing distance between them.

     “Shit.” He breathed. The whole shack was made of thin wooden boards, bullets would go straight through it. They’d just have to stay put and hope nothing got too close. “What the fuck is going on?”

     “It’s the police.” Kasem answered, staring at the door. “They’re raiding the compound.”

     “ _Shit!_ ” Questions swirled in Ash’s head. How many were there? Would they take prisoners? God, what if they were using live rounds? A burst of gunfire nearby and the sound of splintering wood and a cut-off scream made the two of them flinch.

     “We need to get out of here!” Kasem yelped, he grabbed Ash’s arm and yanked him to his feet, starting for the door.

     “No! We go out there, we become targets!” Ash dug his heels into the ratty rush mat, managing to halt their progress. “We don’t have anything to defend ourselves with! You heard Vaas, we need to stay put!”

He ripped his arm out of Kasem’s grip as another explosion rocked the ground outside and ducked, wary of shrapnel.

     “No, we shouldn’t!” Kasem yelled over the chaos. “They’ve got orders to kill everyone inside!”

     “How the hell do you know that?” Ash yelled back. A stinging pain in his neck had him yelping, jerking away from Kasem. He caught sight of an empty syringe in the physician’s hand as his legs gave way, dropping him to the floor.

     “Because I told them to.” Kasem replied, throwing the needle away and pulling cuffs from his bag. “I’m sorry, Ash, but this is for the best.”

The world was spinning, swaying, blurring into nonsense and blaring noise. Ash tried to speak, tried to let his panic and fear reach through the bond and warn Vaas. But he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything - couldn’t see anything. The last thing he was aware of was the single thought.

_Not again…_


End file.
